MC-NRLF 


T 


L 


Jti 


The  Heart  of  Toil 


By 
OCTAVE  THANET 


New  York 

International  Association  of  Newspapers  and  Authors 
iooi 


Copyright,  1898,  by 
Charles  Scribner  's  Sons 


Geo.  M.  Hill  Co. 

Printers  and  Binders 

Chicago,  III 


psm? 


/Y\  A!  A/ 


CONTENTS 


Non- Combatant, ' 

AFay  o/  an  Election,    ...  ^5 

Moment  of  Clear  Vision, .    .  8$ 

Johnny's  Job, 123 

The  "Scab," •  /59 

The    Conscience    of  a    Business 
Man, 


5191 


THE    NON-COMBATANT 


THE    NON-COMBATANT 

4  "I  A  7 ELL,  won't  your  pa  be  pleased!  " 
V  V  cried  Mrs.  Battles. 

The  slim  girl  with  the  rose-leaf  complexion, 
and  the  silky  black  braid  dangling  in  the  hol 
low  between  her  shoulders,  turned  quickly. 
The  pretty  flush  crept  from  her  cheeks  to  her 
forehead,  her  liquid  dark  eyes  brightened  and 
glowed. 

"  Will  it  cheer  him  up,  do  you  really  think, 
ma? "  said  she. 

Mrs.  Battles  was  dishing  the  dinner,  for  it 
was  noon  and  time  for  Race  Battles  to  come 
upstairs  from  the  grocery.  She  waved  the 
coffee  perilously  at  her  daughter's  face,  in  a 
gesture  of  reproach.  "  Stella  Battles!  Don't 
you  know  no  more  of  your  pa  than  not  to  know 
he'll  be  tickled  to  death  ?  There  ain't  a  father 
in  town  wouldn't  be !  I  should  say  !  " 

Stella  placed  the  bread  and  the  tiny  mite 
of  butter — meals  did  not  have  their  former 


4  THE  EEA3T  OF  TOIL 

generous  look  at  the  grocer's  now.  She  looked 
at  the  table-cloth  and  spoke  in  a  soft  rush,  like 
one  who  fears  *he  failing  of  her  own  cour 
age  midway:  "Ma,  I  know  he  would  be 
pleased,  usually;  but — he  seems  so  changed 
and  worried  all  the  time  now;  and — and 
there  would  be  the  expense  of  the  graduat 
ing  dress,  the  gloves,  and  ribbons  and  those 

things " 

"Don't  you  fret,  lambie,"  returned  the 
mother,  tenderly,  as  the  girl's  voice  quivered 
and  sank;  "if  pa  can't  raise  the  money  for 
your  graduating  muslin,  your  ma  can!  And 
you  know  pa  sets  the  world  and  all  by  your 
learning.  But  he's  so  beset  and  worried,  now, 
he  don't  know  which  way  to  turn.  But  you 
see  how  it  is,  Stella,  it's  seven  weeks  now 
since  the  boys  struck,  and  the  bills  are  going 
on  and  on;  and  there  don't  seem  no  more 
chance  now  than  there  was  the  first  week — not 
so  much,  even — that  the  strike  will  be  settled; 
and  however  will  the  bills  get  paid?  It  makes 
the  creeps  come  up  my  back  when  I  think  of 
it;  I  don't  wonder  there's  gray  hairs  in  Race's 
head  nor  that  he  groans  in  his  sleep.  I  don't 
see  how  pa'd  live  through  it  to  fail !  He  said 
that  when  he  mortgaged  the  house,  last  week, 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  5 

and  I  cried  when  I  signed.    But  he's  got  the 
money  to  pay  Wells.     He's  the  worst,  that 


man!' 


She  inclined  her  comely  head  toward  the 
open  door,  through  which  one  could  see  all  the 
variegated  pomp  of  the  Battles's  parlor,  the 
tapestry  sofa,  the  columned  and  chamfered 
mantel,  and  the  geraniums  and  fuchsias,  be 
hind  the  lace  curtains.  On  the  mantel-piece 
(tastefully  draped  in  light-blue  silk)  were  two 
Parian  marble  statuettes.  One,  the  Battles 
had  discovered  since  Stella  studied  Latin,  rep 
resented  Clytie  emerging  from  her  sunflower; 
the  other  they  had  always  revered  as  the  bust 
of  Abraham  Lincoln.  Both  works  of  art  were 
bought  at  a  bargain  sale  by  Mr.  Battles  and 
had  been  preserved  in  a  drawer  and  tissue- 
paper  until  the  parlor  was  furnished.  In  the 
centre  of  the  mantel  towered  grandly  a  bronze 
clock,  presented  by  his  former  employers,  the 
rich  wholesale  grocers,  Harcourt  T.  Wells  & 
Co.  The  other  ornaments  were  two  photo 
graphs — one,  thrown  on  convex  glass  and 
colored,  the  photograph  of  a  smiling  baby  boy; 
the  other,  that  of  a  middle-aged  man  whose 
firm  features  and  slight  frown  of  intentness 
made  a  face  of  mark.  A  black-and-white 


6  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

portrait,  plainly  a  bromide  enlargement  from 
the  photograph  below,  hung  on  the  opposite 
wall. 

"  I  don't  see  why  pa  keeps  his  photograph 
up  there,"  continued  Mrs.  Battles,  her  black 
eyes  snapping,  "  mean  as  he's  treated  him, 
after  he's  bought  goods  there  for  ten  years  and 
paid  prompt,  too — much  as  telling  pa  he'd 
break  him  if  he  didn't  pay  up  the  note  due  this 
week!" 

"  Oh,  ma,  how  can  he  pay?  "  cried  Stella. 

"  He's  mortgaged  the  building,  that's  how," 
returned  Mrs.  Battles,  sombrely.  "  And  he 
ain't  left  himself  enough  to  pay  the  fire  in 
surance." 

"  And  pa's  so  scared  of  fire!  " 

"  Well  he  may  be ;  we  was  burned  out 
once!  "  The  woman  sighed  heavily.  "  I  sup 
pose  I  had  ought  to  remember.  Harcourt  T. 
Wells  was  good  then ;  but  why  did  he  want  to 
turn  on  your  pa  now?  Race  couldn't  do 
enough  for  that  man.  When  we  was  married 
he  was  clerking  for  him ;  and  he'd  work  over- 
hours,  and  he'd  turn  his  hand  to  anything  for 
Harcourt  T.  Wells.  Looked  like  he  just 
revelled  in  doing  for  him;  and  he'd  talk  to 
me — why,  yeu'd  think  the  sun  rose  and  set 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  7 

•with  him.  And  when  he  run  for  mayor,  you 
remember  your  pa  was  fit  to  drop,  he  worked 
so  hard.  I  ain't  exaggerating  to  say  your  pa'd 
a-give  his  life  for  that  man  any  hour  of  the 
day.  Yes,  he  would,  to-day.  And  look  at  the 
way  he's  been  treated!  " 

"  But  he  used  to  be  kind  once,"  Stella  in 
terceded.  "  I  remember  the  things  he  sent, 
every  Christmas!  " 

"  He  ain't  kind,  now.  He  hadn't  got  no 
business  to  fly  out  at  pa  like  he  done  and  pa 
not  doing  a  thing.  Jest  for  nothing  but  be 
cause  he  would  give  credit  to  the  boys — those 
boys  that  always  had  traded  with  him.  Your 
pa  came  home  white  as  ashes.  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  get  it  out  of  him.  He'd  met  "Wells 
on  the  street  walking  with  old  Cochrane  him 
self.  Minute  he  seen  your  pa  he  twisted  his 
eyebrows.  '  Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Battles,'  says 
he — didn't  call  him  Race,  like  he  used  to  do, 
and  looked  like  ice  at  him,  and  I  know  just 
how  hot  your  pa  got,  for  his  collar  was  wilted 
clean  down  and  it  was  a  cool  April  day — '  I 
hear  you  have  gone  back  on  what  you  prom 
ised  me,'  says  he.  '  I  didn't  promise  you  noth 
ing,'  says  your  pa.  He  told  me  he  was  kinder 
startled  and  didn't  rightly  know  what  he  was 


8  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

saying.  '  It  was  an  implied  promise/  says 
"Wells;  '  I  advised  you  for  your  good.  If  you 
don't  choose  to  follow  my  advice,  well  and 
good;  but  I  warn  you,  here,  I  sha'n't  take 
your  bad  accounts  for  any  excuse  next  June. 
Good-morning.'  And  your  pa,  he  was  so 
dazed  and  so  kinder  wanting  to  cry,  he  felt  so 
awful  that  he  hadn't  a  word  to  say,  just  gasped 
like  a  fish  out  of  water;  and  they  walked 
away.  It  fairly  made  your  pa  sick.  I  never 
seen  him  look  that  way  since  little  Ilarcourt 
died." 

"  He  was  named  after  Mr.  Wells,"  said 
Stella,  thoughtfully.  "  Ma,  pa  thought  a 
great  deal  of  Mr.  Wells."  She,  too,  now  was 
looking  at  the  picture  across  the  threshold. 
She  was  trying  to  match  this  unknown  feel 
ing  with  her  own  friendships.  She  thought 
of  her  best  friend  at  the  High  School;  did 
grown  men  and  women  have  their  friend 
ships,  too?  Such  a  thing  seemed  queer  and 
almost  indecorous,  as  vivid  emotion  of  any 
kind  in  older  people  always  looks  to  youth; 
but  piercing  her  shamefaced,  youthful  esti 
mation  of  her  father's  excess  of  feeling  as  not 
quite  sensible,  was  a  passionate  thrill  of 
sympathy. 


TEE  NON-COMBATANT  9 

Stella  had  her  mother's  limpid,  long-lashed, 
dark  eyes,  and  her  silky,  abundant  dark  hair, 
and  her  graceful  shape  was  like  her  mother's 
at  sixteen — indeed,  at  thirty,  Martha  Battles 
"  kept  her  waist "  and  her  beautiful  arms — 
but  Stella  was  her  father's  child.  Martha  took 
life  on  the  broad  side,  laughing  when  she  was 
merry,  weeping  when  she  was  sad,  and  sput 
tering  vigorously  when  she  was  in  wrath.  She 
was  a  true-hearted,  loyal  creature,  and  she 
made  Race  a  good  wife,  and  Race  loved  her 
with  all  his  heart;  but  there  were  things 
impossible  to  say  to  his  wife,  that  said 
themselves  to  his  daughter.  However,  if 
Martha  did  not  always  understand  her  hus 
band,  she  always  admired  him.  To  her,  his 
short,  thick-set  figure  was  a  model  of  manly 
strength;  and  the  slouch  in  his  shoulders 
(which  in  truth  he  acquired  bending  over  the 
ledgers)  was  but  the  brand  of  a  scholar.  She 
had  been  a  maid-of -all-work,  and  her  father 
had  shovelled  on  the  street,  and  to  her  Race 
was  a  self-made  man — a  success  that  ought  to 
be  in  the  newspapers.  There  had  been  a 
notice  of  Race  once  in  the  Fairport  Blade, 
and  his  picture ;  it  was  when  he  ran  for  alder 
man  and  was  defeated.  But  everyone  knew 


10  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

that  there  was  no  chance  for  his  party  in  the 
ward,  when  he  ran,  and  no  mortal,  unless  it 
were  his  wife,  had  expected  that  the  heavens 
would  fall  and  his  party's  candidate  be  elected. 
The  editor  alluded  to  him  as  "  the  successful 
grocer  and  popular  man,  Horace  Battles, 
Esquire."  Mrs.  Battles  bought  eight  copies 
of  the  paper,  seven  of  which  she  sent  away. 
The  eighth  copy  was  laid  in  the  leaves  of  the 
family  Bible  at  the  page  recording  the  births 
of  the  children — only  two,  these  were  Stella's 
and  that  of  the  little  boy  who  died.  lie  had 
been  named  after  Mr.  Wells;  and  in  the 
family  Bible,  after  the  line,  "  Died,  May  13, 
189 — ,  aged  3  years,  5  months,"  in  Kace's 
handwriting,  not  so  round  and  firm  as  usual, 
there  lay  on  the  page  a  sprig  of  dried  lilies  of 
the  valley  from  the  flowers  which  Wells  had 
sent. 

"  Poor  father,"  said  Stella.  It  was  the  in 
adequate  expression  of  a  great  many  thoughts. 
In  a  moment  she  went  on :  "  Now,  ma,  don't 
you  say  no,  I'm  not  going  to  graduate.  I'll 
let  Bessie  Page  read  my  piece;  and  I'll  get 
some  good  excuse  so  I  won't  be  there.  I'll 
write  aunty  about  that  place  she  said  she  could 
get  for  me  for  the  summer,  teaching  those  chil- 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  11 

dren — the  folks  were  to  go  away  in  June — 
and  I'll  take  it;  and  instead  of  being  a  drag 
on  pa,  maybe  I  can  help  a  little " 

Mrs.  Battles  had  listened  with  quick  intakes 
of  the  breath,  between  a  sob  and  a  snort,  but  at 
this  last  she  exploded: 

"  Well,  Stella  Battles,  do  you  think  we're 
going  to  let  you  go  off  as  a  nursery  governess 
when  you've  got  a  pa  and  a  ma  and  a  home, 
and  are  the  only  chick  or  child  we've  got  in 
the  world?  And  as  for  giving  up  graduating, 
I  won't  hear  of  it.  Why,  I've  been  thinking 
about  it  for  a  year,  and  putting  aside  money, 
too;  and  your  pa  wouldn't  take  it  neither;  for 
I  did  offer  it  to  him  to  pay  the  insurance — 
knowing  how  frightened  he  is  of  fire — and 
says  he,  '  No,  Mattie,  no;  it  ain't  enough  for 
that,  and  there  ain't  anything  else  on  earth  I'd 
take  it  for.  It's  the  only  time  she'll  ever 
graduate/  says  your  pa,  '  and  let  her  have  the 
good  of  it  and  look  nice  as  the  rest.'  See  here, 
Stella,  don't  you  begin  to  sniffle,  there's  your 
pa  this  minute — be  a-smiling!  " 

Mrs.  Battles  dressed  her  face  in  determined 
radiance,  as  example,  before  she  opened  the 
door.  Battles  came  home  by  simply  mount 
ing  the  stairs,  the  grocery  being  in  the  floor 


12  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

below.  His  daughter  thought  how  light  his 
footfall  used  to  sound,  and  how  his  whistle  of 
the  last  popular  air  always  used  to  precede  him. 
'Now,  the  only  sound  was  of  a  step  that 
dragged.  But  he  was  trying  to  smile  as  he 
entered.  Battles  was  a  short,  rotund,  little 
man,  who  made  his  round  face  the  rounder  by 
two  scraps  of  sandy  whisker  on  his  jaws.  He 
wore  these  because  Harcourt  T.  Wells,  on 
whom  as  man  and  merchant  he  formed  him 
self,  always  wore  side-whiskers.  He  had  a 
freckled  face  and  very  faint  eyebrows  and 
white  teeth  that  flashed  when  he  smiled,  and 
his  eyes  were  rather  wide  apart,  giving  an  im 
pression  of  open-heartedness  and  frankness. 
When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  low  and  pleas 
antly  modulated;  but  were  he  tickled  into 
laughter,  the  mirth  rolled  out  of  him  in  loud, 
whole-souled  peals.  That  day  Stella  won 
dered  when  she  had  heard  her  father  laugh. 
She  wished  her  mother  had  not  said,  "  I've 
some  good  news  for  you,  pa!  "  She  caught 
the  instant  gleam  of  his  eyes  and  the  falling 
of  his  face  at  the  end  of  the  sentence ;  and  al 
though  he  kissed  Stella  most  tenderly,  and 
said,  in  the  heartiest  way,  "  That  is  good  news ; 
I'm  proud  of  you,  daughter;  and  how  many 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  la 

in  the  class,  twenty-five,  mother?  Well, 
well!  "  still  Stella  felt  that  the  news  he 
had  hoped  to  hear  was  different.  In  a  minute 
he  added :  "  Wasn't  that  Mrs.  Leroy  I  saw 
coming  in  here  this  morning?  What  did  she 
say  about  the  strike?  " 

"  She  said  Leroy  was  coming  in  to  see  you 
this  afternoon,  but  she  wanted  you  not  to  sa^ 
so  to  anyone.  She  said  they  had  a  meeting 
last  night,  but " 

"  Did  they  declare  the  strike  off? "  asked 
Race,  eagerly. 

Mrs.  Battles  shook  her  head.  "  They  voted 
Harry  down.  It  was  that  Bellair.  The  men 
do  be  so  taken  with  his  talking !  " 

"  Then  there's  no  show  of  the  strike's  end 
ing,"  said  Battles.  He  gulped  down  some 
thing  and  drank  his  scalding  hot  coffee  until 
the  tears  came;  but  he  made  so  poor  a  pre 
tence  of  eating  that  his  wife  cried  at  him  pres 
ently,  saying  that  he  ate  no  more  than  a  spar 
row,  and  she  was  discouraged  to  cook. 

"  Well,  I'm  sick,"  said  Race,  his  gloomy 
eyes  on  his  saucer;  "  what  I  see  makes  me 
sick.  Johnny  O'Brien's  baby  died  this  morn 
ing,  and  Johnny  made  a  kind  of  coffin  for  it 
out  of  some  boxes  I  let  him  have.  And 


14:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Rhodes  gave  Mm  some  white  paint.  To  think 
of  how  Johnny  used  to  set  and  talk  about  that 
baby.  And  he  couldn't  even  buy  it  a  casket! 
And  the  Wheelans,  they  ain't  got  shoes  on 
their  feet,  and  the  Jenners  have  sold  their  cab 
inet  organ;  it  makes  me  sick  to  stand  there  be 
hind  the  counter  and  hear  such  things.  Be 
sides — I  got  an  offer  for  the  horse  and  wagon, 
and  I  guess  I'll  have  to  let  them  go."  He  was 
uneasily  aware  of  the  consternation  on  the 
women's  faces  in  spite  of  his  stare  at  his  plate. 
He  went  on,  desperately:  "  E"or  that  ain't  all; 
I'll  have  to  send  Danny  away." 

"  Oh,  father!  "  cried  Stella.  "  Poor  Dan 
ny;  he's  so  stupid  he'll  never  get  another  job, 
and  he's  so  willing  and  faithful." 

"And  what  will  his  grandmother  do, 
Horace  Battles?  "  cried  the  wife. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Kace.  "  It's  got  to 
this,  ma;  we're  like  folks  on  a  shipwreck, 
we're  only  trying  to  save  ourselves.  I  can't 
raise  even  the  $5  a  week  for  Danny's  wages; 
it's  all  I  can  do  to  pull  through  with  my  own 
skin  whole.  They  do  say  that  there's  a  car 
load  of  new  men  coming;  in  that  case  the  men 
will  have  to  git  out  of  town,  and  there  ain't 
much  chance  of  my  collecting  anything  on  the 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  15 

accounts,  for,  what  with  the  expense  of  mov 
ing  and  all,  they'll  be  all  broke  up,  every 
mothers  son  of  them.  I  don't  see  any  way 
out!  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  sha'n't  starve !  "  said 
Mrs.  Battles;  "  but  that  Swede  family  round 
the  corner,  they  fairly  ain't  got  enough  to  eat 
— and  seven  children  under  twelve — it's  aw 
ful;  I  couldn't  help  sending  them  in  some 
stew;  I  put  in  lots  of  potatoes  and  onion,  and 
steamed  over  some  hunks  of  bread,  so  the  meat 
went  a  long  way.  Why,  Race,  those  children 
glared  at  the  dish — like  wolves !  I  think  that 
Bellair  ought  to  be  hung !  "  At  the  beginning 
of  the  fight  it  had  been  Cochrane  to  whom 
Mrs.  Battles  had  wished  a  felon's  doom;  but 
the  good  woman  changed  front  with  an  un 
ruffled  conscience,  meaning  only  good-will 
toward  her  neighbors. 

"  I'm  glad  you  took  them  in  something.  I 
wish  you'd  take  the  O'Briens  in  a  bite,  if  you 
can  fix  it  so  they  won't  notice." 

"  You  don't  mean  they  are  at  that  pass!  " 

"  I  don't  know  when  any  of  us  will  get 
there,"  groaned  Race,  pushing  back  his  chair 
and  making  for  the  door.  But  at  the  door  he 
came  back.  "  Don't  think  I  ain't  pleased  and 


16  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

proud  at  what  you've  done,  Stella/'  said  he, 
his  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "  And  it's  a  great 
comfort  to  know  that  come  what  may  you've 
got  your  education." 

"  Oh,  pa,  I  wish  I  could  help. you!  "  cried 
Stella,  with  a  choke  in  her  throat.  He  kissed 
her,  but  something  in  his  own  throat  pre 
vented  his  answering;  and  so  he  went  heavily 
downstairs  to  the  shop  and  Danny.  The  clerk 
was  only  a  lumpish  boy,  at  whom  the  cus 
tomers  were  continually  girding  because  he 
made  so  many  mistakes ;  but  he  had  a  kind  of 
dogged  honesty  and  faithfulness  that  Eace 
valued,  and  he  was  the  sole  support  of  an  old 
grandmother,  who  prayed  for  the  Battles, 
every  day.  Danny  looked  up  at  Race's  step 
with  the  glimmer  of  a  smile;  he  had  cleaned 
the  molasses  corner  and  waited  for  the  grocer's 
surprise.  But  Race  did  not  see  the  humble 
offering  of  toil,  he  was  plunging  at  his  busi 
ness. 

"  Danny,  I  got  something  to  say  to  you," 
he  began,  as  if  primed  for  a  reproof;  and  he 
ended  with  the  bald  statement  that  he  should 
have  to  dismiss  the  lad  at  the  week's  end.  It 
was  a  great  relief  to  have  Danny  merely  say, 
"  Yes,  sir.  I  know  times  are  Jiard."  But  it 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  17 

was  less  of  a  relief  to  see  the  muscles  of  his 
neck  moving  as  he  hastily  walked  off,  and  to 
be  sure  that  he  had  been  crying  when  he  re 
turned.  No  one  came  into  the  store.  Race 
looked  out  on  the  street  and  sat  drearily  con 
ning  over  his  own  plight.  His  heart  was  like 
lead.  He  could  look  out  and  see  the  tidy  little 
yards  and  the  windswept  macadam,  and  the 
men  sitting  idly  on  their  steps  for  the  most 
part,  albeit  a  few  were  patching  up  their  sheds 
or  fences  and  some  lawn-mowers  were  rattling 
through  the  little  front  yards.  A  stranger 
would  have  noticed  only  a  pretty,  shady  street, 
but  he  saw  the  empty  window  where  the  Jen- 
ners's  cabinet  organ  had  stood,  and  he  remem 
bered  how  Ned  Mueller  had  meant  to  paint 
the  house  which  stood  dingy  brown  and  would 
wait  a  long  time  now  for  the  paint-brush.  He 
felt  not  only  his  own  anxiety  and  pain  but  the 
smother  of  all  the  misery  about  him.  A 
wagon  dashed  round  the  corner,  a  large  truck 
drawn  by  two  great  Norman  bays  with  shin 
ing  harness.  The  letters  on  the  side  jumped 
at  his  eyes— "  Harcourt  T.  Wells  &  Co." 
How  many,  many  times  had  he  watched 
wagons  like  those  from  the  corner  with  al 
most  the  luxury  of  proprietorship.  "  Gittin' 
3 


18  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

richer  every  day!  "  lie  would  chuckle  to  him 
self;  and  plod  along,  beaming.  Now  his 
heart  contracted  at  the  sight,  and  at  the  feel 
ing  that  he  no  longer  could  exult  in  Wells's 
grandeur  as  in  something  part  his  own.  Wells 
had  been  the  grocer's  hero,  worshipped  from 
his  business  principles  to  his  whiskers.  The 
times  when  Battles  would  call  to  pay  for  his 
groceries  were  proud  moments  to  him.  He 
would  saunter  into  the  great  store,  nodding 
here  and  there  to  the  clerks,  who  all  knew  him, 
and  ask,  in  a  careless  voice,  "  Old  man  in? '' — • 
just  as  if  he  had  not  chosen  the  hour  of  the 
day  most  likely  to  see  Wells  in  his  office.  Then 
he  would  pass  the  card  of  "  No  Admittance," 
cocking  kip  eye  at  it  as  he  passed,  and  trusting 
that  there  might  be  some  stranger  present  to 
view  his  confident  entry,  and  walk  up  to  the 
head  of  the  firm's  desk  with  "  Well,  here  I 
am  again,  Mr.  Wells."  It  was  a  standing 
joke  that  Wells  should  say,  "  After  an  ex 
tension,  Race,  I  suppose? "  and  he  should 
answer,  "  After  a  receipt  in  full,  I  guess." 
They  always  both  laughed,  and  then  would 
follow  a  chat  of  a  few  moments.  Mr.  Wells's 
opinions  on  matters  of  political  moment  were 
sure  to  get  the  best  circulation  in  Race's  giv- 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  19 

ing.  "  "Well,  I  was  talking  with.  Harcourt  T. 
Wells  and  he  said,"  etc.  Thus  would  the 
words  of  the  oracle  be  repeated  over  Race's 
counter.  Wells  having  no  honorary  title — a 
secret  grief  to  his  admirer — Race  always  gave 
him  his  name  in  full;  it  was  never  "  Wells  " 
or  "  Mr.  Wells  "  but  always  "  Harcourt  T. 
Wells."  It  goes  without  saying  that  Wells's 
politics  were  Race's.  That  he  should  ever  op 
pose  Harcourt  T.  Wells  was  a  catastrophe  too 
awful  for  the  follower's  imagination  to  com 
pass.  And  here  he  was  in  the  thick  of  it. 
"But  I  couldn't  do  no  different!  "  groaned 
Race,  sinking  his  head  on  his  hard  palms,  "  I 
couldn't  go  back  on  the  boys !  " 

Henry  Leroy,  president  of  the  Fairport 
Labor  Congress  and  foreman  in  the  foundry 
of  the  Cochrane  Plough  Company,  was  Race's 
familiar  friend.  The  men  in  the  works  were 
mostly  his  neighbors  and  customers,  good 
neighbors  and  good  customers.  Where  was  he 
to  look  for  custom  were  he  to  drive  them 
away?  And  he  had  the  acuter  form  of  sym 
pathy  which  springs  from  eye-knowledge.  It 
is  one  thing  to  read  in  the  papers  that  strikers 
are  suffering,  quite  another  to  see  the  sewing- 
machine  of  the  Spriggs's  trundled  down  the 


20  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

steps,  and  to  watch  Dick  Spriggs's  wife  (who 
always  sent  a  plate  over  when  she  fried  dough 
nuts)  go  back  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes ;  or 
to  hear  Johnny  O'Brien,  ^yho  used  to  be  full  to 
weariness  of  funny  stories  about  his  baby,  beg 
ging  the  street  commissioner  for  work  on  the 
sewer  that  he  might  pay  for  the  baby's  funeral. 
Kace  not  only  knew  what  decent,  industrious 
fellows  many  of  the  Cochrane  men  were,  he 
knew  how,  all  winter,  the  wages  had  been 
pared  and  pared  until  the  men  were  fretted 
into  a  panic,  seeing  no  end.  He  had  heard  in 
Swedish,  German,  and  Irish  dialects  all  about 
the  obnoxious  new  "  bosses "  and  the  new 
rules  and  the  petty  oppressions,  born  quite  as 
much  of  ignorance  as  tyranny.  The  griev 
ances  that  pick  men's  pockets  and  the  griev 
ances  that  nettle  their  pride — Race  got  them 
all,  struggling  meanwhile  to  overquell  preju 
dice  and  resentment  with  appeals  to  prudence 
and  "  the  women  folks  and  the  kids,"  and  mild 
reminders  of  the  tough  old  Scotsman's  good 
qualities.  ]STow,  condemning  the  precipita 
tion  of  the  strike,  he  could  not  help  a  sympathy 
for  the  strikers.  TTells,  on  the  other  hand, 
only  saw  the  immediate  subject  of  conflict, 
(which:in  fact,  was  puerile),  and  the  hard  con- 


TEE  NON-COMBATANT  21 

ditions  of  business  making  a  reduction  of 
wages  inevitable.  He  wanted  Race  to  join 
with  the  other  tradesmen  in  refusing  credit  to 
the  strikers  and  thus  "  knock  the  strike  flat." 
Race  did  promise  to  see  the  butchers  and 
grocers.  But  he  found  them  firm  for  the 
strikers.  So,  wretchedly  enough,  he  went  to 
report  his  failure.  Wells  was  out  of  town. 
To  write  a  letter  on  anything  more  delicate 
than  the  price  of  groceries  was  a  stupendous 
matter  to  honest  Race.  "  I'll  wait  and  see  the 
old  man,  and  explain/'  said  he,  mopping  at 
the  wrinkles  fast  settling  in  his  forehead. 
"Wherefore  it  fell  out  that  Race's  patron  re 
ceived  his  first  news  from  the  paper  friendly  to 
the  strikers.  And  it  was  Race's  hard  fate  to 
run  up  against  Wells  and  Cochrane  at  the 
climax  of  Wells's  explanation  how  his  trustiest 
henchman  had  deserted  him.  "  Oh,  I'll  an 
swer  for  Battles;  Battles  is  all  right!  "  he  had 
assured  Cochrane;  and  here  he  must  confess 
that  Battles  was  all  wrong.  Race's  appear 
ance  gave  a  ready  opportunity  to  release  his 
anger  and  disappointment,  l^or  did  Race,  an 
afterwitted  fellow  at  the  best,  find  a  word  of 
reply.  He  stumbled  away  like  a  fool,  and  so 
the  trouble  began.  And  yesterday,  when  he 


22  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

paid  Wells,  paid  him  every  last  cent  due — and 
it  was  like  drawing  blood  to  raise  that  money 
• — when  he  came  into  the  store  thinking,  any 
how,  he'd  get  a  good  word  from  him,  then 
what  happened?  They  told  him  Mr.  Wells 

was  busy,  and  would  he  wait?     By he 

wouldn't  wait ;  he  said  it  was  no  consequence, 
he  only  came  to  pay  some  money — and  he  paid 
it,  every  cent!  There  wasn't  enough  left  for 
the  insurance  on  the  house;  and  fire  was  the 
dread  of  his  life.  "  I  wouldn't  have  minded 
so  much,  if  he'd  spoke  to  me,  himself !  I'll  be 
broke  up  fast  enough;  ain't  he  satisfied  with 
that  ?  "  groaned  Race.  It  did  not  distract  him 
from  his  dejection — although  the  act  had  that 
intention — to  go  to  the  door  and  look  about 
him.  What  a  comfort  just  looking  at  that 
building  had  been  to  Horace  Battles !  "  To 
think  of  me  owning  a  handsome  brick  store 
like  that!  "  he  used  to  muse  in  a  glow  of  deli 
cious  wonderment.  Every  one  admired  the 
building,  three  stories  high,  narrow  to  be  sure, 
but  of  generous  depth,  with  a  large,  arched 
window,  and  a  high,  dark-green  panelled  door, 
and  fixtures  and  woodwork  of  a  beautiful 
cherry-red ;  a  store  so  shining  clean,  so  sunny, 
and  so  tasteful  in  summer  (when  a  tiny  f  oun- 


THE  NON-VOMBATANT  23 

tain  played  amid  radishes,  lettuce,  and  straw 
berries)  that  strangers  often  craned  their  necks 
backward  as  they  were  driven  past  the  neat 
gilt  sign.  To-day  the  windows  were  quite  as 
clean,  but  the  display  was  dismally  meagre. 
The  dizzy  pyramids  of  tinned  goods  in  their 
gray  papers  had  dwindled  to  two  towers  of  fly- 
specked  cans  of  pease.  Danny  had  tried  to 
eke  out  the  tableau  by  a  barricade  of  soap  and 
a  row  of  bottles  containing  an  unsuccessful, 
though  deserving,  brand  of  pickles. 

Farther  down  the  street  the  grimy  brick 
walls  of  the  great  plough  shops  turned  their 
blank  windows  and  barred  doors  sullenly  on 
the  little  homes  that  used  to  light  their  house 
hold  fires  at  those  smokeless  chimneys.  Two 
watchmen  paced  languidly  in  the  sunshine,  an 
unconscious  compliment  to  Leroy's  discipline, 
else  would  their  heads  have  been  broken  long 
ago.  Leroy  himself  came  up  the  street.  He 
greeted  the  watchmen  in  a  matter-of-fact  way, 
saying  something  that  Race  was  not  close 
enough  to  hear;  but  he  saw  that  each  of  the 
men  eyed  the  labor  leader's  back;  and  they 
spoke  together. 

Leroy  was  a  tall  man,  muscular  and  cleanly 
built,  with  an  ease  of  motion  often  seen  in. 


24  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

those  whose  muscles  are  kept  in  trim  "by 
exercise.  He  wore  his  brown  curls  short, 
and  a  firm  chin  was  clean-shaven,  but  his 
mouth  was  hidden  by  a  mustache.  If  his 
mouth  had  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  it  was 
very  gentle. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  Eace,  I  couldn't  wait 
until  evening." 

"  What's  up?  "  said  Eace;  "  you  boys  go 
ing  to  give  up  the  strike? "  Leroy  shook  his 
head.  He  followed  Eace  into  the  store,  where 
Danny  was  arranging  the  shelves  and  futilely 
trying  to  fill  the  gaps  with  decorations  in  the 
shape  of  placards.  The  boy's  eyes  were  red. 
Leroy  nodded  to  him  and  went  on  to  the  tiny 
office.  He  balanced  himself  on  a  stool  by  the 
desk,  and  absently  printed  Eace's  stamp  on  a 
card  flaunting  the  purity  of  Eoyal  Baking 
Powder. 

"How  did  it  go,  Harry?"  said  Eace,  to 
start  him. 

"  All  wrong.  We're  beat,  and  the  longer 
we  keep  this  up  the  worse  we're  beat!  I'd 
have  got  out  of  town  last  month  but  for  see 
ing  the  boys  through." 

"  But,  Harry,  won't  they  take  you  back? " 

"Not  they.     There's  the  disadvantage  of 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  25 

being  president;  I  try  to  hold  the  men  back, 
in  the  first  place,  and  get  their  ill-will  as  a 
pusillanimous " 

"  But  they  know  better  now!  " 

"  Some  of  them,  not  all  by  a  long  chalk,  or 
they'd  back  out  of  the  strike.  And  the  com 
pany  thinks  that  I  egged  the  men  on.  I'll  not 
get  taken  on,  no  matter  who  is,  you  can  bet 
your  life  on  that!  " 

"  But  you're  such  a  good  workman!  " 

"  Good  workman  doesn't  count.  They 
think  I'm  a  meddler,  and  stirred  up  this  racket 
to1  further  my  own  ambitious  purposes.  God 
knows  what  they  were,  /  don't.  But  that's  the 
way  it  goes.  The  union  always  catches  it; 
and  the  union  leaders  are  always  to  blame; 
and  yet  from  my  experience,  I'd  say  that  in 
nine,  cases  out  of  ten  the  leaders  are  for  peace 
and  prudence,  and  prevent  more  strikes  than 
they  cause,  ten  to  one.  "When  they  do  go  into 
a  strike  it's  either  because  they  see  no  other 
way  to  prevent  the  men's  being  ground  to 
powder,  or  because  there's  a  crazy  pressure  on 
them  from  the  hot-heads  that  they  can't  resist. 
But  you  don't  hear  of  the  strikes  that  are  pre 
vented  ;  and  when  a  strike  does  come  off,  you 
see  the  officers'  names  in  the  paper  and  they're 


26  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

making  the  speeches;  and  when  a  fight  be 
gins,  even  a  fight  you're  opposed  to,  it  ain't  in 
human  nature  not  to  sail  in  and  put  up  the 
best  fight  you  can !  But  that  isn't  what  I  came 
to  talk  about.  My  goose  is  cooked.  Well,  I 
made  a  living  before  I  ever  saw  Alan  Coch- 
rane,  and  I  guess  I  can  make  a  living  without. 
But  here's  what  I'm  after.  There  is  always  a 
lot  of  outside  sympathizers  who  like  to  be  in 
any  muss  going,  and  they  keep  the  hot-heads 
stirred  up;  and  as  things  go  from  bad  to 
worse,  the  sober  fellows  catch  the  fever;  they 
want  to  swipe  somebody.  There's  a  lot  of  bad 
blood  in  town,  a  lot,  Kace.  You  know  there's 
talk  that  Cochrane's  going  to  bring  in  a  car 
load  of  new  men;  and  these  crazy  fellows  are 
swearing  that  if  that's  so  the  new  men  sha'n't 
find  any  shops  to  go  into.  May  be  all  talk,  but 
it's  ugly  talk.  I  don't  like  it;  and  I  sent  a 
note  to  Cochrane  offering  to  send  some  men  to 
guard  the  shops.  He  declined.  Said  as  much 
as  that  I  had  something  cloaked  by  the  offer. 
It  was,"  said  Leroy,  his  mild  voice  deepening  a 
little,  "  It  was  a  pretty  insulting  letter.  I 
warned  him  to  keep  away  from  the  shops, 
nights;  but  he's  sandy  as  the  devil  and  he 
goes  just  the  same.  Perhaps  if  you  were  to 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  27 

see  him  and  tell  him  what  I'll  tell  you,  he 
might  take  it  as  corroborating  me,  and  be  a 
mite  carefuller." 

"  Well,  I  call  that  real  forgiving  of  you, 
Harry,  helping  Cochrane  out  of  the  hole  this 
wayf" 

Leroy's  calm  brown  eyes  blazed  suddenly  as 
he  answered  with  a  novel  heat,  "  I  don't  give 

a  d for  Alan  Cochrane !  I  wouldn't  cross 

the  street  to  save  his  immortal  soul!  But  I 
won't  have  any  dirt  charged  up  against  the 
union  while  I'm  bossing  the  fight !  It's  those 
cussed  fools  like  Dick  Bellair  and  Eaney  and 
Brown  that  kill  a  strike !  They  act  so,  no  de 
cent  folks  can  sympathize  with  the  strikers! 
D 'em!  " 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Eace.  "Hullo, 
there's  my  little  girl!  How'd  you  get  home 
so  early,  daughter? " 

Stella's  figure  in  the  door-way,  with  the 
sunshine  behind  her,  was  so  brightsome  a  pict 
ure,  in  her  pretty  print  frock  and  broad  hat 
trimmed  with  roses,  with  the  flush  on  her 
delicate  cheek  and  the  light  in  her  soft  eyes, 
that  it  might  set  any  father's  heart  to  a  lighter 
measure.  With  all  his  worries,  Race  smiled. 

"  Can't  I  see  you  for  just  a  minute,  pa? 


28  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Will  you  excuse  me,  Mr.  Leroy?  "  said  Stella, 
her  pretty  manner  the  prettier  for  the  girlish 
blush  that  came  with  the  words. 

Race  went  a  little  apart  with  her,  rather 
puzzled.  It  was  not  like  Stella  to  run  in  on 
the  business.  Stella  held  "  business "  in 
proper  awe.  But  she  could  hardly  wait  now 
to  have  him  well  out  of  eat-shot.  Hastily  she 
held  out  her  hand  and  showed  him  some  bank 
notes.  "  There's  $15,  pa,"  she  said,  breath 
lessly;  "it's  ma's  and  a  little  I  had  saved; 
and  ma's  willing;  we  talked  it  over,  and  we 
couldn't  sleep  nights  if  you  turned  Danny  off. 
Please  take  it,  pa;  it'll  pay  three  weeks* 
wages,  and  lots  of  things  may  happen  in  three 
weeks !  Please,  pa !  " 

"  And  the  graduation  dress  and " 

But  she  interrupted  him :  "  I  don't  need 
the  dress.  I'm  going  to  leave  before  we  grad 
uate.  Ma's  willing." 

Race  stood  silent,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears. 
How  he  felt  he  could  hardly  have  told  him 
self.  He  only  was  sure  that  he  could  neither 
take  the  sacrifice  nor  refuse  it.  In  the  pause 
Danny,  on  the  other  side  of  the  partition, 
slunk  away  with  his  knuckles  in  his  eyes. 
"Daughter,"  said  Race,  finally,  "you  wait; 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  29 

I'll  think  it  over.  Maybe — maybe  I  won't 
need  to  take  your  money  to  keep  Danny.  You 
wait.  Xo,  you  needn't  leave  the  money  with 
me." 

Leroy  himself  turned  away  then  and  walked 
to  the  door  of  the  shop,  where  presently  Bat 
tles  joined  him. 

"  Now,"  said  Leroy,  not  looking  at  his 
friend,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  found  out." 

Alan  Cochrane's  house  stands  no  great 
distance  from  the  plough  works.  He  is  an 
elderly  Scotchman,  a  widower  these  twenty 
years,  with  no  nearer  kin  than  his  seventh 
cousin,  Mrs.  Graham,  who  keeps  his  house, 
and  he  cares  not  a  pin's  head  for  fashion.  His 
big,  square,  wooden  house,  stands  in  its  large, 
old-fashioned  garden,  as  it  has  stood  for  twen 
ty-five  years;  although,  long  since,  its  neigh 
bors  have  been  transmuted  into  shops  or  store 
houses,  or  have  been  razed  to  the  ground  to 
make  room  for  brick  walls.  The  blinds  in 
front  are  always  closed;  why,  only  Mrs. 
Graham  can  tell;  it  is  her  custom  as  it  is  her 
custom  to  wear  black  silk  mitts  and  to  allow 
no  followers  to  her  maids — wherefore  she  of 
ten  is  left  with  no  maids  at  all. 


£0  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

When  Leroy  and  Battles  came  to  the  iron 
gate  (a  high  iron  fence  enclosing  a  hedge  sur 
rounds  the  place)  Leroy  paused.  "  I'll  not  go 
in  with  you/'  he  began,  but  he  took  a  quick 
step  backward  in  the  shade  of  the  hedge,  dart 
ing  a  warning  frown  and  beckoning  to  Race 
to  do  the  same,  which  Race  did  mechanic 
ally. 

"  Why,  Harry,"  says  he,  "  there's  five  of 
those  fellers  going  up  the  steps.  What  does  it 
mean  ? " 

"  It  means,  I  guess,  that  they're  smarter'n 
I  counted  on  their  being,  and  they're  going  to 
catch  him  at  home  where  he  won't  have  a  soul 
but  women  in  call;  and  it's  Thursday,  the 
cook's  day  out;  and  the  meeting-day  of  the 
Presbyterian  sewing  society  that  Mrs.  Graham 
goes  to  regular  as  taxes."  He  was  looking  the 
whole  street  over  while  he  spoke,  not  seeing  a 
soul  in  view.  "  I  guess  you  and  I  will  have  to 
tackle  this  job,  Battles,"  said  he. 

"  Sure,"  says  Race.  "  How'll  we  git  in, 
Harry?" 

"  Easy ;  they've  got  Raney's  cousin  here ; 
she  knows  me  and  I've  got  their  password. 
See  how  she'll  give  me  the  glad  hand." 

Race   knew   the   girl  himself,   having  in 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  31 

pleasanter  days  often  handed  her  the  family 
flour  and  berries,  and  she  smiled  in  a  fright 
ened  way  on  him.  Leroy  had  not  touched  the 
bell;  he  had  only  knocked  in  a  peculiar  fash 
ion.  She  had  instantly  responded. 

"  All  right/'  said  Leroy,  very  low;  he 
added  another  word. 

"  You're  sure  you're  to  come,  too? "  said 
the  girl,  who  seemed  scared  out  of  her  wits. 
"  'Oh,  I'm  sorry  you're  in  it,  you  and  Mr.  Bat 
tles." 

"  Never  you  mind  us !  "  said  Leroy,  kindly, 
but  always  in  the  same  low  voice.  "  "We'll 
help  and  not  hinder." 

"  Don't  let  'em  hurt  him,  will  you,  Mr. 
Leroy?  " 

"  I'll  try  my  best,"  returned  Leroy,  rather 
grimly. 

The  'two  men  stole  down  a  dark  hall, 
through  what  appeared  to  be  a  dining-room, 
and  took  breath  outside  a  heavy  black-walnut 
door.  Eace's  pulses  were  drumming,  but  Le 
roy  looked  as  pale,  dejected,  and  calm  as  usual. 
He  slid  his  hand  back  to  his  hip-pocket. 
"Yours  all  right?"  said  he.  Kace  nodded, 
imitating  the  motion. 

"Then,  listen!" 


32  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Cochrane's  voice  came  to  them  distinctly. 
"  No,  I  won't  sign  an  agreement  to  take  you  all 
back  at  half  the  increase,  or  any  increase,  or 
take  you  back  at  all;  and  you  won't  kill  me 
without  a  fight!  " 

Leroy  laid  his  hand  on  the  door-knob.  His 
lips  formed  an  inaudible  whistle.  He  stepped 
softly  across  the  room. 

"  Look  out  of  the  window,"  he  whispered. 

"  The  window's  open,"  reported  Kace,  "  but 
there's  a  screen  in  it.  There's  a  balcony  out 
side  and  we  could  swing  ourselves  over  and 
batter  the  screen  down  with  a  chair  or  some 
thing." 

Cochrane  had  stepped  back,  edging  nearer 
the  library-table  and  the  drawer  where  lay  a 
revolver;  and  young  Billy  Mooney  (the  reck 
less  one  of  the  crowd,  half  drunk  and  only 
eighteen,  which  is  an  age  of  the  Evil  One's 
own  picking  does  it  come  to  wicked  deeds)  was 
making  between  when  the  screen  crashed  for 
ward  and  Leroy  bounded  into  the  room,  Race 
close  after  him. 

"Don't  fire!"  he  called  to  Cochrane; 
"  we're  on  your  side." 

"  Which  side?  "  cried  a  big  fellow  with  a 
red  face;  "which  side,  Harry?  QD it, 


THE  NON-COMLATANT  33 

we're  in  earnest.    He's  going  to  sign,  by , 

or  we'll  make  a  vacancy  in  the  firm !  " 

"  Hardly,"  said  Leroy.  "  Get  your  revol 
ver  "  (to  Cochrane,  who  needed  no  prompting 
but  flashed  it  out  of  the  drawer).  "  Brown,  I 
warned  you  fellers  I  wouldn't  have  no  dirt, 
and  I  icon't!  It  ain't  five  to  one  now,  but  five 
to  three  —  and  the  telephone !  The  police  will 
be  here  inside  ten  minutes."  The  man  near 
est  the  door  quietly  slipped  back  the  bolt. 

"  Are  you  going  to  go  back  on  the  boys  and 
fight  for  the  scrubs,  Harry?  "  cried  Brown. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  let  you  disgrace  honest 
men  who  fight  fair,"  said  Leroy,  firmly. 
"  Time's  short — are  you  going  to  skip  or  wait 
to  be  pinched,  while  you're  parleyvooing  ?  " 

"  If  we  do  go  now,"  grumbled  another 
man,  "  we'll  be  pinched  before  night  anyhow. 
I'm  for  doing  up  the  whole " 

He  stopped;  there  was  something  clammy 
and  ugly  in  the  impact  of  Leroy's  revolver 
jammed  against  his  shirt-front. 

"  Get  out,  and  you  may  save  your  skins  for 
all  the  informing  I  shall  do,"  said  Cochrane, 
who  had  been  taking  in  the  whole  scene  with 
an  ironic  smile.  "  But  I  advise  ye,  lads,  to 
skip  out  of  town;  the  sooner  the  better." 
3 


34  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  Who  gave  us  away,  Harry?  "  said  the  big 
man — the  others  had  unostentatiously  sidled 
to  the  door. 

"  That's  my  lookout,"  said  Leroy. 

The  big  man  made  no  answer,  although  he 
turned  on  Race  a  glance  of  menace.  The 
youngest  of  the  party  relieved  their  chafed 
vanity  by  a  few  threats;  but  in  the  end,  and 
no  long  time  either,  they  left  the  three  men 
standing  together. 

"  Will  they  be  setting  the  house  afire  go 
ing  out,  for  a  parting  token,  do  ye  think? " 
panted  Cochrane. 

"  They  are  more  likely  to  pay  Eace  or  me 
that  compliment,"  said  Leroy,  quietly. 

Cochrane  wiped  his  brow.  He  was  a  portly 
man  and  he  was  puffing  with  his  exertions. 
"  I'll  buy  me  a  bicycle,  this  same  day,"  cried 
he.  "  I  must  work  down  to  fighting  weight ; 
those  blackguards  would  have  done  me  up  if 
you  hadn't  come  in  so  handily.  Well,  will  ye 
take  something? " 

"I  never  drink,  Mr.  Cochrane,"  said  Le 
roy,  coldly;  and  Race,  with  more  courtesy,  de 
clined  the  proffered  decanter. 

Cochrane  chuckled  under  his  stumpy  gray 
mustache.  "  Weel,  at  least  ye'll  let  me  thank 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  35 

ye.  Those  fellows  were  primed  for  murder, 
no  less.  They  had  juist  enough  speerits  in 
them  to  be  wicked.  I  see  ye  were  right  in  your 
caution,  Leroy."  He  held  out  his  hand,  but  Le- 
roy  turned  red  and  took  a  step  backward,  say 
ing,  very  stiffly,  "  You  owe  me  no  thanks,  and 
I  owe  you  none,  Mr.  Cochrane." 

Again  Cochrane  chuckled.  "  But  ye  got 
the  police?" 

"  Kb,  sir,  I  didn't.  That  was  just  a  bluff. 
Battles  was  coming  to  warn  you,  and  I  was 
only  going  to  the  gate  with  him,  when  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Brown  and  Raney  and  the  others, 
and  of  course  I  went  in.  There  wasn't  a  cop 
in  a  mile !  " 

"  Weel,  ye  did  the  bluff  fine.  Man,  ye'll 
shake  hands.  You're  a  man  and  I'm  a  man; 
am  I  no?  And  we've  fought  together.  It's  no 
the  preesident  of  the  Cochrane  Plough  Com 
pany,  or  the  chairman  of  the  Strike  Commit 
tee;  it's  juist  Alan  Cochrane  and  Harry  Le 
roy — eh,  Battles?" 

''  That's  right,  sir,"  said  Race. 

''  And  I  may  as  weel  tell  ye,"  said  Coch 
rane,  "  that's  all  a  lie  about  the  carload  of  new 
men."  (Leroy's  eyes  flashed.)  "  And  if  the 
union  send  you  I'll  see  ye  to-morrow,  and  we'll 


36  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

talk  it  out.  If  you'll  come  back  at  the  old 
wages  they'll  not  be  cut,  and  in  a  month  or 
two  I'll  be  able  to  raise  them  a  bit;  and  the 
other  things  we'll  talk  over.  Ye  can  all  come 
back;  there'll  be  no  discreemination,  not  even 
against  them  " — jerking  his  thumb  at  the  win 
dow;  "  they'll  most  like  be  running  anyhow, 
the  fule  bodies!" 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  said  Leroy,  in  a  dif 
ferent  tone. 

"  He's  done  his  best  against  the  strike  all 
along,"  Race  put  in. 

"  Only  because  I  thought  the  strike  had  no 
chance  of  winning,"  said  Leroy,  stiffening 
again. 

Cochrane's  sharp  little  gray  eyes  twinkled. 
"  Losh,  man,  don't  be  scared  that  I'm  putting 
ye  on  my  side.  Ye'll  let  me  think  ye  an  hon 
est  enemy,  will  ye  no?  I'll  conseeder  those 
same  grievances." 

This  time  it  was  Leroy's  hand  that  was  ex 
tended  first.  "  Then,  good-afternoon,  and  I'm 
glad  I  came,  sir,"  said  he,  shaking  hands,  as  he 
would  shake  hands  with  the  great  political  per 
sonages  to  whom  he  was  sometimes  presented 
when  there  was  need  of  the  labor  vote.  Race 
followed  his  example,  observing  the  same  form. 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  37 

"For  the  matter  of  that,  I'm  glad,  too," 
said  the  old  Scotchman,  dryly. 

Returning,  Leroy  was  in  higher  spirits  than 
Race.  The  non-combatant  ruefully  considered 
how  he,  who  only  wished  for  peace,  had  now 
fought  on  both  sides,  to  his  own  proper  loss 
and  peril.  Having  angered  his  best  friend  past 
forgiving  by  helping  the  strikers,  he  had  now 
won  the  ill  will  of  the  most  reckless  strikers  by 
fighting  for  the  hated  Cochrane.  The  baleful 
eyeblink  shot  at  him  by  Brown  rankled  like  a 
poisoned  arrow.  He  thought  of  Cochrane's 
speech  about  fire,  and  Leroy's  answer. 

"  And  me  with  not  a  cent  insurance,"  he 
groaned;  "  but,  Lord!  they  wouldn't  be  such 
fiends!" 

Were  they?  It  is  past  telling.  !N"o  clews 
were  found.  The  five  suspected  men  were  full 
of  pity  and  innocence  from  the  teeth  outward. 
Alibis  were  ready  at  hand  for  every  one  of 
them.  ISTor  is  it  sure  that  they  were  not  gen 
uine,  these  alibis.  A  defective  flue,  the  un 
punishable  incendiary  in  so  many  cases,  may 
have  played  its  tragic  part  again.  Whatever 
the  cause,  this  at  least  is  certain,  Race's  build 
ing,  grocery  and  home,  was  burned  that  same 
night.  The  fire-bells  awakened  Harcourt  T. 


38  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Wells,  a  bachelor,  lodging  in  a  hotel.  He 
counted  the  strokes — half  the  numeral  in  bed, 
half  out  on  the  floor  scrambling  into  his 
clothes — for  it  was  Cochrane's  number.  That 
was  enough  to  send  him  downstairs  to  the  tele 
phone,  and  the  sleepy  answer,  "  No,  it's  not 
Cochrane's,  some  grocery,  Battles's,  they 
said!  "  spurred  him  hot  foot  through  the 
streets.  There  is  something  in  a  midnight  fire 
that  pricks  the  nerves.  It  may  be  the  contrast 
between  the  quiet  streets  outside,  with  the  dim 
stores,  the  shrouded  counters,  the  shadows  of 
the  tall  facades  on  the  roadway,  the  white  por 
cupines  of  light  blinking  and  winking  in  the 
dark,  violet  air,  and  the  seething  excitement 
that  waits  around  the  corner.  Or  it  may  be 
that  the  touch  of  pathos  in  human  calamity 
and  the  touch  of  horror  in  human  peril  blend 
with  a  shuddering  appreciation  of  the  pageant 
ry  of  the  sight.  The  meanest  structure  flam 
ing  in  the  night,  borrows  a  ghastly  and  sinister 
beauty.  And  more  than  anything,  it  may  be 
that  fire-bells,  especially  fire-bells  in  the  un 
guarded  hour  of  darkness,  startle  the  imagina 
tion  with  the  sympathy  of  a  common  dread; 
to-night,  you;  to-morrow  night,  we,  perhaps! 
As  Wells  pounded  down  the  sidewalk,  he 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  39 

could  hear  the  thud  of  his  own  footfall;  and 
he  remembered  another  time  of  his  hearing  the 
same  sound,  the  time  when  his  own  great  store 
was  afire — then,  Race  and  he  were  the  last 
men  on  the  roof ! 

Snatches  of  many  scenes  drifted  through 
his  mind,  in  which  one  humble,  faithful  figure 
stood,  as  if  against  that  red  glow  in  the  west; 
while  he  ran,  heedless  of  his  years  and  his 
weight,  faster  and  faster.  All  he  had  heard 
from  Cochrane  that  afternoon,  all  he  had 
heard  in  Race's  store  before  he  went  to  Coch- 
rane's,  made  a  mingle-mangle  in  his  brain, 
like  a  tune  to  his  hurrying  feet. 

First  he  passed  a  black  mass  of  heads.  Then 
he  stepped  over  the  line  of  hose  and  found  a 
crowd  of  Cochrane's  men,  every  man  of  them 
carrying  something  that  he  had  pulled  out  of 
the  smoke.  Cochrane  was  on  an  empty  box, 
directing  the  loading  of  some  drays;  and 
swearing  and  shouting  at  the  men  with  as 
much  fervor  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  dis 
turb  their  relations;  the  men  themselves  run 
ning  and  tugging  with  the  heartiest  obedience. 
The  building  was  masked  in  smoke.  It  poured 
from  the  windows.  The  firemen  were  fighting 
the  fire  on  the  roof;  and  the  wing  in  the  rear 


40  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

was  blazing.  Wells  ran  to  the  front,  where 
was  a  heap  of  household  goods  not  yet  re 
moved,  although  Leroy  was  busy  with  a  score 
of  helpers.  Half  a  dozen  loudly  sympathiz 
ing  women  were  grouped  about  Mrs.  Battles, 
who  sat  in  the  wicker  arm-chair  on  the  best 
hair  mattress,  rocking  to  and  fro,  unconscious 
of  an  extraordinary  toilet  of  her  best  black  silk 
skirt  and  Race's  trousers  flung  hastily  about 
her  night  gear,  in  mistake  for  a  jacket,  and 
Race's  Sunday  silk  tile  perched  on  her  woful 
head;  equally  unconscious  that  she  was  hud 
dling  two  photographs,  the  bust  of  Clytie 
and  the  bust  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  to  her 
breast. 

"  Where's  Race  ?  "  she  wailed ;  "  where's 
Race  Battles?  Danny,  where's  the  master?  " 

Soot  and  flour  had  made  a  grizzly  charcoal 
study  of  Danny  as  he  tottered  up  to  her, 
crooked  by  a  huge  white  sack.  "  It's  the  very 
last  sack  of  flour,"  gasped  Danny.  "  He  ain't 
inside.  I  was  all  over." 

Mrs.  Battles  screamed.  She  could  see  her 
husband.  He  was  on  the  peak  of  the  roof, 
apart  from  the  firemen;  and  he  held  the  gar 
den-hose  in  his  hand. 

"  Hush,  ma,  don't  be  scared,"  said  Stella. 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  4:1 

The  girl  was  dressed  and  calm.  "  See,  they're 
all  coming  down!  " 

"  But  lie  ain't!  "  shrieked  the  wife;  "  he's 
staying.  Kace!  Race!  Come  down!  Let 
the  store  go!  What's  the  store  to  me  if  you 
get  killed?  Race!  Come  this  minute!  Oh, 
he  can't  hear  me.  Mr.  Wells,  you  call  him; 
he'll  mind  you  !  " 

Then  Wells  did  a  reckless  thing.  He,  Har- 
court  Wells,  no  longer  a  young  man,  elbowed 
the  women  aside  and  ran  up  the  ladder  like  a 
f oolhasty  boy. 

"  Race,  you  old  fool,  come  down !  "  he  bel 
lowed.  The  roof  was  smoking.  The  firemen 
were  gone,  safe  down  off  the  other  ladders. 
Race  stood  alone.  He  faced  the  smoke  volley 
ing  toward  him,  spitting  burning  cinders  from 
out  the  glare  behind  the  murk.  His  white 
shirt  was  puffed  out  by  the  wind  of  the  fire, 
and  his  face  was  like  the  shirt,  as  he  trained 
his  poor  little  squirt-gun  of  a  hose  on  the 
crackling  roar. 

"  My  life's  insured  but  the  building  ain't," 
he  shouted  back;  "  I've  got  to  save  it." 

Swearing  roundly,  Wells  stumbled  up  the 
roof.  "  I'll  pull  you  off  if  you  won't  come !  " 
he  howled  through  the  din.  He  grabbed 


42  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Race's  leg.  Race  dropped  the  hose;  and  he 
did  turn  now. 

"  You're  crazy,"  he  cried.  "  Get  off,  for 
God's  sake!  " 

"  Crazy  yourself! "  snapped  Wells. 
"  Here,  you  get  down  that  ladder  first,  and 
find  your  wife." 

They  slid  down  together.  None  too  soon, 
either,  since  the  roof  whereon  Race  had  stood 
crashed  in  before  their  feet  touched  the 
ground.  Race  felt  Wells's  hand  on  his  arm 
hauling  him  back.  He  clung  to  it,  piteously 
shaken,  and  began  to  laugh.  "  You  ain't  mad 
at  me — that's  most  worth  the  fire,"  he  qua 
vered. 

"  Of  course  I'm  not  mad  at  you,  you  bloom 
ing  idiot,"  growled  Wells,  who  was  puffing 
and  perspiring  at  every  pore  as  well  as  burned 
by  a  dozen  cinders;  "  why  in  thunder  didn't 
you  come  round  and  give  me  a  chance  to  say 
so?  I  wasn't  going  to  take  your  money  the 
other  day ;  I  knew  how  it  squeezed  you.  But 
you  wouldn't  wait  a  minute.  No,  you  must 
needs  go  off  half-cock !  You  needn't  be  look 
ing  so  black  and  blue,  either.  I  came  around 
here  to-day  and  saw  your  clerk,  who  isn't  such 
a  fool  as  he  looks,  and  he  told  me  all  about  the 


THE  NON-COMBATANT  43 

insurance  and  the  little  girl's  being  willing  to 
give  up  her  dress  and  all.  /  paid  the  insur 
ance  policy,  Race,  this  afternoon.  You'll  be 
a  year  or  two  to  the  bad,  but  I'll  see  you 
through.  And  the  little  girl  shall  have  as 
pretty  a  frock  at  the  show  as  any  girl  in  town 

— Cochrane  and  I'll  see  to  that —  D it, 

Race!  you  aren't  hurt,  are  you?  Here! 
Somebody!  Get  some  whiskey!  " 

"  It's — it's  only  just  the  smoke.  It  got 
into  my  windpipe,  I  guess,"  sobbed  Race,  the 
tears  running  clown  his  cheeks.  "  Smoke's 
terrible  on  the  eyes.  God  bless  you,  Harcourt 
T.  Wells— it's  only  just  the  smoke!  " 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION 

IT  was  a  special-delivery  letter,  and  Leroy, 
after  he  had  receipted  for  it  and  the  boy's 
red  wheel  was  twinkling  down  the  street,  eyed 
the  superscription  a  moment  before  he  took 
out  his  pocket-knife  and  very  neatly  opened 
the  envelope. 

The  time  was  five  o'clock  of  a  Saturday  af 
ternoon.  The  foreman  in  the  foundry  at 
Cochrane's  always  came  home  earlier  Satur 
days,  the  whistle  blowing  release  at  four. 
Harry  had  come  up  on  the  cars,  and  was  rest 
ing  a  moment  on  his  piazza  before  cleaning 
himself  for  supper.  He  was  tired  with  a  hard, 
warm,  dirty  day's  work;  and  he  waited  a  mo 
ment  in  a  pleasant  daze,  conscious  of  the  splash 
of  the  improvised  hose  fountain  on  the  green 
plush  of  the  tiny  lawn,  of  the  rich  colors  of  the 
cannas  in  the  pyramid  near  the  house,  of  the 
shifting  of  the  burnished  greens  of  the  oak- 
trees  under  a  light  breeze,  of  the  soft  blending 
and  melting  of  many  hues  in  the  angles  made 
47 


£8  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

on  either  hand  by  the  shady  street  before  him, 
of  the  flowers  and  shrubs  in  the  yards  and  the 
fanciful  architecture  of  the  wooden  houses,  of 
the  rattle  of  passing  vehicles  over  the  brick 
pavement,  and  the  noiseless  flash  of  bicycles. 
The  Leroys  owned  their  house,  a  new  house, 
painted  cream  color,  with  gables  and  a  large 
piazza.  They  were  very  proud  of  the  house. 
Years  had  been  spent  planning  it.  There  were 
as  many  as  three  large  closets,  and  a  garret, 
and  a  bath-room,  upstairs.  When  Harry  used 
to  emerge  from  the  cleansing  ministrations  of 
that  temple  of  tidiness,  he  felt  that  now,  in 
deed,  he  was  living  in  luxury  and  that  the 
grime  of  the  foundry  was  a  trivial  thing.  Har 
ry,  his  wife  and  their  three  children,  had 
watched  the  hewing  of  the  joists  and  admired 
the  mortising.  They  thought  few  carpenters 
could  have  turned  such  beautiful  round  pillars, 
or  so  dexterously  beaded  the  piazza  railing; 
and  the  sunburst  carved  over  the  north  gable 
assured  Mrs.  Leroy  that  their  dwelling  was  not 
merely  a  house  but  a  mansion. 

"  I  do  wish  Jay  would  come  and  see  it,"  she 
would  say  twenty  times  a  month.  She  never 
added,  "  Now,  maybe,  he'll  be  willing  to  stay 
with  us!  "  She  never  distinctly  said  it  to  her- 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          49 

self;  that  were  to  reflect  on  Jay's  affection; 
Jay,  who  was  so  amiable  to  the  children  and 
often  brought  her  a  pretty  trifle  from  Chicago 
and  always  praised  the  cooking,  although  he 
lived  in  a  hotel  in  Chicago,  where  they  had  ice 
cream  every  day  for  dinner.  Yet  the  un- 
avowed  perception  of  his  discomfort  over  their 
humble  conditions,  moved  beneath  the  current 
of  her  thoughts  like  an  undertow.  It  sailed 
openly  through  Harry's  thoughts.  But  he 
never  showed  it  to  his  wife,  not  even  when  Jay 
borrowed  money  of  him  for  his  hotel  bill.  He 
lent  the  money  silently,  only  telling  himself 
that  it  were  cheaper  for  him  did  Jay  come  to 
his  own  house.  "  Oh,  well,  I  must  put  up 
with  his  foolishness,  Efne's  so  fond  of  him,"  he 
said,  tolerantly.  Jay  was  EfnVs  only  brother, 
younger  than  she ;  and  she  had  stinted  herself, 
all  her  youth,  to  earn  him  the  education  that 
she  felt  his  abilities  deserved.  He  was  a  young 
Chicago  lawyer  and  politician  now,  whose  flu 
ent  speech  and  fine  clothes  filled  his  sister  with 
a  pride  that  she  tried  to  believe  satisfied  all  her 
hopes.  He  bowed  to  people  in  Fairport  that 
she  only  knew  by  name,  and  talked  familiarly 
of  all  the  great  ones  in  her  little  world.  And 
once,  at  a  political  meeting,  she  saw  him  on 
4 


50  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

the  platform  among  the  vice-presidents,  in  his 
black  frock  coat  and  white  tie,  stroking  his 
mustache  and  smiling,  quite  at  home.  It  was 
a  glorious  moment.  Possibly  Harry  was  not 
so  happy;  but  he  loved  his  wife,  and  he  had 
been  a  good  friend  to  Jay. 

Being  so  good  a  friend — a  friend  in  need, 
one  may  say — he  did  not  like  the  looks  of  his 
brother-in-law's  hand  on  a  special  delivery  en 
velope.  He  frowned.  "  I  hope  Jay  ain't  in  a 
scrape  again!  "  he  muttered,  with  an  uneasy 
quaking  of  his  pulses.  Then  he  unfolded  the 
sheet  and  read;  and  the  color  drifted  out  of  his 
bronzed  face,  for  this  is  what  he  read : 

"  HAERY  :  I  guess  you  will  think  I  am  a 
scoundrel;  but  I  was  dead  frozen  sure  that  I 
had  a  sure  tip  on  a  wheat  deal,  and  if  I'd  won 
out  we  would  all  have  been  rich,  for  I  meant 
to  do  the  generous  thing  by  Effie.  But  I  was 
fooled.  I  had  to  put  up  margins  you  know, 
and  I  had  raised  all  I  could,  and  they  wouldn't 
take  my  note  without  your  endorsement.  Now 
a  man  that  used  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,  but  has 
quarrelled  with  me  on  politics,  is  out  gun 
ning  for  me,  and  has  got  that  note,  and  it  is 
likely  he  will  send  it  to  your  town  for  collec- 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          51 

tion,  as  it  is  due  to-day.    I  believe  the  d 

scoundrel  suspects.  Harry,  it's  the  peniten 
tiary,  no  less.  Harry,  if  you  let  me  be  ar 
rested,  I  swear  I  will  blow  my  brains  out.  But 
if  you  will  save  me  this  once  I  will  never  for 
get  it  as  long  as  I  live !  And  I  will  pay  you  up 
certain  sure,  and  pay  the  other  money  you 
have  lent  me,  too.  Every  cent!  There's  an 
other  thing.  I  know  R well.  I've  filled 

him  up  with  your  great  influence  with  the 
workingmen.  Both  States  are  so  confound 
edly  close  this  year  that  the  managers  are 
opening  their  hearts.  They  are  willing  to 
plank  down  $2,000  for  your  campaign  ex 
penses  (between  ourselves  they  won't  be  any 
thing  to  speak  of)  if  you  will  do  your  best  for 
us,  on  both  sides  the  river.  !Nbw,  Harry,  the 
note  is  only  $1,342 ;  so  if  you  accept  you  will 
have  the  money  to  meet  it,  in  hand.  And  it's 
sure;  they  will  pay  half  in  advance,  and  half 
in  November.  Don't  leave  me  in  the  hole,  old 
man,  for  God's  sake!  It  would  break  Effie's 
heart.  Burn  this.  J ." 

Leroy  sat  perfectly  still  for  a  few  minutes. 
His  face  continued  to  grow  paler.  Suddenly 
the  tide  turned  in  his  heart.  He  clinched  his 


52  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

fists  and  crumpled  the  letter  in  them,  while 
the  blood  began  to  color  his  cheeks  and  fore 
head  until  they  were  a  dull,  painful  red. 

His  first  distinct  thought  came  as  a  bicycle 
glided  athwart  his  vision  and  the  child  on  it 
touched  his  little  cap  to  him.  He  thought, 
"  I  can't  get  Tommy  his  bike — or  me  one, 
either. "  He  laughed:  an  American  always 
laughs  when  he  gets  a  sudden  blow.  "  The 
$600  in  the  bank  will  have  to  go.  And — I 
guess  Fll  have  to  put  a  mortgage  on  the  house. 
I  thought  it  so  awful  fine  when  I  got  the  other 
paid  off.  Well,  it  will  be  more  natural  with 
one  on.  Oh,  Lord!  " 

His  patient  face  contracted.  "  If  this  was 
the  first  time,"  he  muttered,  "  or  if  I  could  be 
sure  it  would  be  the  last!  "  Drearily  his 
memory  took  up  the  squalid  roll  of  Jay's 
"  troubles."  Jay  had  been  grateful  after  each 
escape;  and  came  the  more  easily  at  the  next 
peril. 

It  was  somehow  wretchedly  nagging  to  re 
member  Jay  well  dressed,  jocose,  lightly  push 
ing  his  misdemeanors  behind  him.  "  He  to 
say  I  ought  to  get  Effie  a  wheel  like  his  " — 
somehow  Harry  harped  on  this  one  string  of 
his  grievances — "  when  I  got  her  a  good 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          53 

wheel,  a  pretty  wheel  that  was  ten  dollars 
more  than  she  thought  I  was  going  to  pay! 
D his  airs!  " 

"Hullo,  Harry!  "  a  man  called  to  him. 
The  man  carried  a  tin  dinner-pail  and  a  car 
penter's  kit.  "  You  going  to  the  meeting  to 
night?  Big  meeting.  Darcy's  going  to  talk." 

"  Politics,  I  suppose,"  said  Harry. 

"  Yes,  he'll  skin  the  Shylocks  alive.  Better 
come.  Darcy  was  wonderful  the  last  time  I 
heard  him." 

Then  Harry  felt  the  same  rush  of  blood  at 
his  heart  which  he  had  felt  before;  but,  this 
time,  he  did  not  repel  the  thought  instinc 
tively;  he  said:  "All  right,  I  don't  mind 
hearing  what  you  fellows  have  to  say." 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  other,  evidently 
pleased.  "  You  can  answer  if  you  want  to, 
you  know." 

He  walked  off,  humming  a  tune. 

Darcy  was  a  smart  fellow;  Harry  was  not 
so  sure  as  he  would  like  to  be,  that  he  was 
honest.  He  did  not  agree  with  him  on  the 
question  that  was  in  everybody's  mind;  he 
himself  had  been  studying  it  for  months  in  the 
laborious,  thorough-going,  workingman's  fash 
ion.  He  had  talked  it  over  with  his  comrades 


54:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

at  the  shops;  with  Eace  Battles,  the  grocer, 
who  had  given  him  a  very  fair  abstract  of  Mr. 
Harcourt  T.  Wells's  economical  reasoning; 
with  Cochrane,  and  with  Alderman  McGin- 
nis;  slowly,  his  opinions  had  hardened.  But 
he  had  held  his  tongue.  Now,  suppose  Jay 
and  his  friends  were  right.  A  great  many 
people  believed  that  they  were  right;  and  that 
the  triumph  of  their  party  would  make  poor 
people  rich.  Just  suppose  they  were;  he 
could  easily — he  hadn't  committed  himself  to 
any  party — well,  where  was  the  harm  in  hear 
ing  Darcy? 

He  shook  his  head  and  went  upstairs  to  his 
bath  and  his  Saturday-night  toilet.  His  wife 
fancied  that  he  was  rather  absent-minded  at 
supper;  but  he  was  gentle  as  always. 

After  supper  (and  during  the  meal  he 
couldn't  help  speculating  whether  they  needed 
to  have  both  eggs  and  meat  at  the  same  time ; 
and  how  ever  he  should  explain  the  need  of 
minute  frugalities  to  Erne  without  lying)  he 
went  down  town.  He  thought  of  riding ;  but 
withdrew  his  foot  from  the  step  of  the  car. 
"  I'm  getting  extravagant,"  said  he.  The 
same  reflection  made  him  replace  his  tobacco- 
bag  in  his  pocket. 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          55 

The  hall  was  a  bare  room,  up  two  flights 
of  stairs.  It  was  already  filled  with  men,  most 
of  whom  came  in  their  working  clothes. 
There  were  so  many  dark  flannel  shirts  that 
the  room  wore  a  dismal  air  in  spite  of  the  raw 
white  walls  and  the  flaring  gas-jets.  Most  of 
the  men  were  smoking,  and  an  odor  of  stale 
beer,  from  the  saloon  below,  mingled  with  the 
tobacco-smoke.  A  shout  greeted  Leroy's  ap 
pearance. 

He  had  never  been  there  before. 

"  I  only  came  to  see  what  you  fellows  would 
make  out  of  it !  "  said  he,  brushing  the  jubi 
lant  congratulations  and  welcomes  aside. 
"  Oh,  they  all  say  that,"  he  heard.  "  Just 
listen  to  Darcy!  "  "  I'll  listen,"  said  Leroy, 
"  but  I've  been  reading  and  thinking  a  good 
while,  and  I  am  more  than  half  of  the  opin- 


lon- 


"Yes?  Yes?"  cried  two  or  three  at 
once. 

"  I'm  more  than  half  of  the  opinion  that 
you  fellows  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on!  " 

"  Aw,  come  off,"  cried  the  most  eager  man, 
yet  not  angrily ;  it  was  plain  that  Leroy  was  a 
great  favorite. 

"  I've  knowed  Harry  to  be  right  six  times," 


56  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

said  another  man,  "  and  I  ain't  knowed  him 
to  be  wrong  once." 

"  Well,  that's  a  record." 

"  Jest  let  him  listen  to  Darcy!  "  cried  the 
first  speaker;  "  Darcy  is  the  boy!  " 

Leroy  sat  as  if  he  did  not  hear;  but  it  was 
quickly  passing  through  his  consciousness, 
like  a  vibration  to  that  first  thrill  of  gratified 
vanity,  that  there  were  other  men  with  whom 
his  words  would  have  equal  weight.  Suppose 
what  the  one  party  were  continually  declaring 
should  be  true,  and  the  defeat  of  their  cause 
meant  cruel  hard  times  for  workingmen,  as 
well  as  paralysis  of  the  industries  of  the  coun 
try,  and  national  dishonor,  what  would  those 
who  had  followed  him  over  the  precipice  have 
the  right  to  say  to  him?  He  listened  without 
interest  to  the  early  speakers,  men  who  had 
not  yet  learned  to  marshal  their  ideas  in  con 
nected  and  effective  speech.  One  of  them  was 
a  man  in  his  own  shop,  a  good  worker,  but 
slow  and  unready;  he  never  would  get  any 
higher  wages  than  he  got  now;  he  was  grow 
ing  old;  he  had  a  great  family  and  a  sickly 
wife.  "  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter, 
boys,"  he  mumbled,  for  he  had  not  many 
teeth,  "  I  know  I've  worked  hard  for  forty- 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          57 

two  years,  ever  since  I  was  a  boy  of  ten,  and 
it  does  look  like  things  is  gittin'  harder  every 
year." 

"  Wages  aren't.  They're  higher!  "  called 
Leroy. 

"  And  things  to  eat  is  cheaper!  "  called  the 
man  who  had  known  Harry  to  be  right  six 
times.  He  had  a  loud,  cheerful  voice,  and  a 
cheerful  young  face  with  many  freckles. 

"  I  ain't  denying  it;  but  times  is  harder," 
reiterated  the  speaker,  turning  his  dim  and 
anxious  eyes  on  Leroy.  "  I  tell  you,  gentle 
men,  we're  ground  under  by  the  money  power, 
that's  what's  the  trouble.  I  got  ten  children 
mjself » 

"  That  ain't  the  fault  of  the  money  power," 
observed  the  irrepressible,  cheerful  man. 

"  And  I  had  to  borry  fifteen  dollars  last 
May,  and  I  had  to  give  a  morgige  on  my  wife's 
sewing-machine,  and  I've  been  paying  ten  per 
cent,  a  month  on  that,  one  hundred  and  twenty 
per  cent,  a  year.  What  do  you  think  of  that? 
I  ain't  got  it  all  paid  yit.  I  tell  you,  boys,  I'm 
willing  to  vote  any  way  to  stop  them  kind  of 
things." 

He  sat  down  amid  applause  and  cries,  "  It's 
a  shame!  "  "  That's  right!  "  "  Down  with 


58  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Shylock!  "  Two  or  three  of  the  light-minded, 
however,  were  calling  sonorously  on  "  Dick!  " 
"Dick  Williams!"  "Dicky  boy! "  The 
cheerful  man  (he  was  Dick  Williams)  was 
whispering  eagerly  in  Leroy's  ear. 

"  Wait  for  Darcy,"  said  Leroy.  But  while 
the  next  man  rambled  through  the  "  crimes  " 
of  the  opposite  party,  by  the  aid  of  notes, 
which  he  could  not  always  read — in  these  in 
tervals  of  embarrassing  study  being  encour 
aged  by  Dick,  with  a  shout  of  "Louder! 
louder!  " — Leroy  set  his  teeth  and  thought. 
He  was  thinking  what  hard  times  mean  to  la 
boring  men.  He  did  not  need  to  imagine,  he 
had  only  to  remember.  The  drops  were  prick 
ing  his  brow.  He  was  roused  by  frantic 
cheers.  Darcy  had  risen. 

Quietly  he  stood,  his  hand  in  the  breast  of 
his  coat,  waiting  for  the  applause  to  subside. 
He  was  slim,  pale,  with  wavy  black  hair  and 
melancholy  black  eyes.  He  wore  a  slender 
black  mustache,  his  face  otherwise  being 
clean  shaven.  He  was  neatly,  almost  fop 
pishly  dressed,  and  his  hands,  in  particular, 
were  most  carefully  kept.  They  were  very 
white.  As  he  talked  he  moved  easily  about, 
and  his  gestures,  even  in  his  most  impassioned 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          59 

moments,  never  became  grotesque  or  violent. 
"  Darcy  never  tries  to  scoop  up  the  planks  of 
the  floor!  "  Dick  Williams  expressed  it.  His 
chief  oratorical  charm,  however,  was  his  voice, 
a  beautiful,  magnetic  organ  that  could  deepen 
without  growing  harsh,  and  ring  without  flat 
tening  on  its  highest  notes.  His  tones  floated, 
sweet,  full,  and  thrilling  into  the  silent  lis 
tener's  ears.  He  began  very  quietly.  He  gave 
the  ordinary  arguments  of  his  political  creed, 
but  with  a  deft  and  fanciful  turning  of  his 
own.  Then  he  sympathized  with  the  old  man 
who  had  spoken,  describing  his  honesty  and  in 
dustry  so  warmly  that  his  subject  was  between 
grins  and  sobs;  from  him  Darcy  fell  upon  an 
undefined  and  rather  hazy  "  money  power  " 
with  such  vehemence  and  glowing  metaphors 
that  the  hearers  yelled  and  shrieked  their  de 
light.  But  honest  Dick,  after  a  sharp  poring 
over  his  hero's  face,  observed,  dryly,  "  Big 
talk ;  but  say,  where  do  we  come  in  ?  " 

Harry  shook  his  head.  His  heart  sank  with 
in  him  like  a  waterlogged  boat.  He  had  come 
to  be  convinced,  to  hear  logic,  facts,  what  he 
himself  called  "  the  horse  sense  of  the  situa 
tion."  What  he  heard  was  a  hash  of  exaggera 
tion  and  falsehood,  gilded  platitudes,  hyster- 


60  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

ical  wrenchings  at  the  emotions,  and  frantic 
appeals  to  the  wolfish  prejudices  of  class 
against  class.  But  how  magnificently  the 
orator  acted  his  sorry  part!  Convincing 
himself  with  his  own  molten  passion!  Sway 
ing  himself  and  his  audience  in  the  same 
breath ! 

"  I  call  upon  you  to  rebuke  these  Shylocks 
who  eat  the  poor  as  it  were  bread!  "  he 
shouted;  "  I  might — so  powerfully  have  my 
feelings  been  stirred  by  our  friend's  simple, 
pathetic  story  of  his  wrongs — I  might  ask  you 
to  tear  their  luxurious  roofs  from  the  heads  of 
these  bloodsucking  plutocrats;  but  I  believe 
in  the  ballot.  Crush  them,  but  crush  them  be 
neath  the  avalanche  of  the  American  freeman 
which  comes  down  upon  the  tyrants  and  their 
tools  as  white,  as  noiseless,  and  as  irresistible 
as  the  storm  king  of  the  Alpine  hills !  " 

While  the  room  was  ringing  Harry  arose. 
And  honest  Dick  choked  and  clinched  his  fists 
in  his  nervousness.  No  one  could  help  con 
trasting  the  two  men.  Leroy's  tall  shoulders 
stooped  a  little.  His  figure  showed  muscular 
strength  and  the  ease  of  it;  but  it  had  no  touch 
of  Darcy's  supple  grace.  His  hands  were 
large  and  hard  with  handling  hot  iron.  They 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          61 

looked  strong,  not  shapely.  He  did  not  seem 
"  magnetic."  He  had  a  patient,  kindly,  firm 
face,  kindling  now  into  earnestness. 

"  I  only  want  to  say  one  word,  boys;  I'm 
not  going  to  make  a  speech.  Mr.  Darcy  has 
been  talking  to  you  of  '  the  money  power ' — 
what  is  the  money  power?  "  (A  voice,  "  The 
banks.")  "  The  banks  have  to  get  their  money 
somewhere:  who  gives  it  to  them?  (A  voice, 
"  The  rich  men.")  "  The  rich  men  and  the 
poor  men,  too.  I  have  been  round  to  every 
bank  in  town,  inquiring  into  these  sort  of 
things,  for  I  like  to  be  sure  I  am  right  before  I 
go  ahead.  (Applause — mainly  from  Dick 
Williams.)  Boys,  the  bulk  of  the  savings- 
bank  deposits  and  some  of  the  other  deposits 
come  from  poor  people  and  people  of  small 
means.  I  tell  you  the  money  power  is  just 
the  people — the  rich  and  the  poor  together. 
And  I  tell  you  what's  more,  that  the  banks  are 
not  oppressing  the  people:  they  lend  money 
from  $10  up;  I  have  borrowed  it;  I  know 
plenty  of  men  have  borrowed  it  at  eight,  and 
seven,  and  six  per  cent,  a  year.  McCann's 
story  made  my  blood  boil;  but  what's  the 
money  power  got  to  do  with  that — what  does 
Darcy  want  to  bust  the  banks  wide  open  for  on 


62  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

account  of  that?  He  never  borrowed  the 
money  of  a  bank;  he  borrowed  it  of  a  little, 
dirty,  private  usurer.  I  ain't  in  no  avalanche 
business  myself,  but  I'll  go  over  to  that  robber 
to-morrow  with  Mac  and  his  receipts,  and  I'll 
get  the  money  that  he  ought  to  have  back  for 
him!  (Great  laughter  and  applause,  led  vig 
orously  by  Dick  Williams.)  So  don't  vote  for 
his  party,  for  it  wouldn't  punish  him  a  little 
bit,  since  he  isn't  a  banker ;  he  is  old  Jack  Fan 
ning,  who  is "  An  immense  uproar  took 

the  words  off  his  tongue.  Fists  and  open  hands 
were  waving  in  the  air ;  and  half  a  dozen  fiery 
patriots  were  demanding,  "  Did  he  lend  you 
the  money?  Did  he?  Did  he?  "  of  the  bewil 
dered  McCann. 

"  Yes,  he  did,  gentlemen,"  faltered  Mc 
Cann;  "but  I  didn't  know  he  belonged  to  us!" 

"Very  likely  not,"  said  Leroy,  coolly; 
"  and  you  don't  know  a  good  many  other 
things  any  better.  Before  you  boys  decide  to 
turn  the  country  upside  down  you  better  find 
out  whether  you  ain't  jumping  on  the  wrong 
people  just  as  you  were  this  time." 

"  That's  right!  "  bellowed  Dick.  And  as 
Leroy  sat  down  he  added,  "  Last  car's  coming. 
Move  we  adjourn." 


THE   WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          63 

"  Headed  off  that  time,"  he  chuckled,  as 
the  crowd  poured  into  the  quiet  street  under 
the  white  electric  light;  "say,  Harry,  don't 
you  be  afraid,  the  boys  know  you're  white  and 
they'll  stand  by  you." 

"  And  I'll  stand  by  them,  the  best  I  know, 
Dick;  the  best  for  them,  whether  it's  the  best 
for  me  or  not." 

"That's  right,"  said  Dick,  easily;  but  he 
wondered  a  little  at  Leroy's  unusual,  almost 
oppressive,  solemnity  of  manner.  "  Folks  do 
get  awful  worked  up  with  politics,"  reflected 
he ;  "  but  if  that  Darcy  tries  any  of  his  slick, 
fake  talk  on  Harry,  and  makes  him  feel  bad, 

d if  I  don't  knock  his  flannel  mouth  off 

him !  Good  job,  too." 

This  same  evening,  for  hours,  two  men  had 
been  sitting  in  a  private  parlor  of  the  principal 
hotel  of  the  city.  The  table  before  them  was 
strewn  with  letters,  clippings  from  papers,  and 
railway  maps.  Now,  although  a  full  hour 
later  than  the  adjournment  of  the  meeting 
that  had  been  momentous  to  Leroy,  they  were 
still  sitting,  still  talking.  The  tall  man  with 
the  gray,  curly  hair  and  the  indefinable,  well- 
groomed  air  of  an  Eastern  club  man,  was  a 


64  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

great  national  politician.  The  other  man, 
shorter,  slighter,  and  younger  by  ten  years,  was 
quite  as  careful  in  his  dress  and  his  beautiful 
hands;  but  he  was  a  local  politician.  He  was 
very  rich,  very  respectable,  very  much  in  earn 
est  ;  he  was  in  politics  because  he  was  a  citizen 
who  had  opinions,  not  because  he  wanted  an 
office.  At  this  moment  he  looked  worried.  "  I 
don't  like  the  looks  of  the  thing;  it  looks — 
well,  it  doesn't  look  like  a  legitimate  cam 
paign  expense.  Do  we  absolutely  need 
Darcy? " 

"  We  do,"  answered  the  national  man,  flick 
ing  his  cigar-ash,  with  a  patient  smile,  like  one 
willing  to  go  over  the  same  ground  unnum 
bered  times;  "  to  say  nothing  of  his  Labor 
paper,  he  has  a  wonderful  hold  on  his  audi 
ences,  McGinnis  says." 

"  McGinnis  is  the  most  cheerfully  venal 
politician  I  know." 

"  My  dear  Colonel,  who  denies  it?  But  he 
is  perfectly  honest  with  his  employer — after 
he  has  taken  his  side  and  his  campaign  bank 
account  is  all  right.  And  he  is  working  like 
a  beaver." 

"  Maybe,"  admitted  the  other,  wearily; 
"  he  does  seem  interested.  After  all,  I  think 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          65 

it's  the  decent,  honest  men  that  make  me  the 
sickest — too  timid  to  speak  out,  too  lazy  to  go 

to  primaries,  and  too  d stingy  to  give  a 

cent  to  campaign  funds.  They  seem  to  think 
that  their  whole  civic  duty  is  performed  if 
they  go  to  the  polls  once  a  year.  It  is  enough 
to  make  a  man  want  to  emigrate !  " 

"  Or  reconcile  him  to  the  McGinnises. 
Hullo !  That's  his  knock— Come  in !  " 

The  door  softly,  one  might  say  insidiously, 
swung  inward,  admitting  a  large  man  in  a 
fresh  white  duck  suit,  to  which  a  florid  face 
and  a  pink  silk  shirt  gave  a  pleasing  dash  of 
color,  further  emphasized  by  glossy  black  hair 
and  a  black  mustache.  He  was  as  much  more 
aggressive,  pictorially,  than  a  blond  man  in 
the  same  clothes  as  a  colored  lithograph  is 
more  aggressive  than  a  water-color. 

He  greeted  both  gentlemen  with  a  certain 
deference,  not  common  to  Michael  McGinnis. 
The  local  magnate  (in  spite  of  his  criticisms) 
returned  a  smile  of  good-fellowship  and  the 
national  man  a  flattering  cordiality. 

"  Well,"  was  his  first  inquiry,  "  do  you 
bring  news,  McGinnis?  How  about  Leroy? 
You  still  think  him  important  ?  " 

"  I  do  that,  sir.    There  isn't  a  man  more  re- 


66  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

spected  in  the  unions  and  out  than  Leroy. 
You  see,  they  know  he's  white — honest,  you 
know." 

"  How  would  we  best  get  him?  If  he  were 
offered » 

"  Excuse  me — you  know  him,  Colonel,  he 
wouldn't  handle  any  money.  There's  only 
one  way  to  catch  Harry." 

"And  that?" 

"  That  is,  convince  him  the  election  of  your 
platform  and  your  men  will  really  help  the 
laboring  man,  and  you've  got  him ;  he'll  swal 
low  you  all,  hook,  line,  and  sinker!  I'll  tell 
you  'bout  Harry.  I  had  a  letter  from  a  good 
friend  of  mine  in  Chicago;  he's  on  the  other 
side,  but  they've  done  him  dirt,  and  he  ain't 
dying  to  have  them  win,  though  he's  regular 
and  he's  committed  and  can't  say  anything 
openly.  See?  Well,  he  told  me  that  he  knew 
for  sure  that  Harry  Leroy  got  an  offer  of 
$2,000.  We're  the  storm  centre  and  we're 
two  sides  of  the  river,  two  doubtful  States  at 
once — oh,  they  want  us  bad !  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  national  politician,  "  will 
he  decline?" 

"  Will  Joe  Patchen  beat  a  scrub?  "  McGin- 
nis  opened  his  arms  in  a  fine  swinging  gesture. 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          67 

"  He  has  declined.  He  gave  'em  the  marble 
heart.  This  evening  he  declared  himself. 
He's  been  studying  and  thinking.  K"o  good 
to  press  him.  Meself,  I've  supplied  him  with 
literature.  Well,  to-night  there  was  a  meet 
ing  of  the  Jefferson  Club.  Darcy  he  was  there, 
and  so  was  Leroy,  and  so  was  a  nice  boy  I 
know,  Dick  "Williams.  I  thought  it  worth 
waiting  for  his  report."  Therewith  McGinnis 
gave  the  details  of  Leroy's  speech  with  much 
humor. 

"  He  is  a  good  fellow,"  said  the  national 
man ;  "  but,  now,  about  Darcy.  You  think 
we  still  need  him?  " 

"  Sure.  You  get  Darcy  rigged  out  with  a 
stereopticon  and  pictures  showing  the  work 
man  to-day  and  how  he'd  be  if  they  was  to  win, 
and  have  a  picture  to  show  the  mortgage  being 
foreclosed  and  that  sort  of  thing.  And  tell 
?em  who  has  brought  on  the  hard  times;  and 
show  'em  how  much  harder  the  times  will  be 
if  those  fellers  get  an  innings.  Give  'em  the 
figures  right  in  their  own  county.  Tell  'em 
about  the  way  mortgages  will  be  foreclosed 
vriththem!  That  hits 'em  in  the  neck.  Say, 
I  got  a  little  chap,  kin  look  over  the  records 
and  get  the  facts  pat  for  him." 


68  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  But  will  the  other  fellows  go  out  to  the 
lectures?  You  know  they've  passed  the  word 
down  the  line  not  to  attend  our  meetings." 

McGinnis  showed  a  flashing  set  of  teeth. 
"  They  kin  pass  the  word  till  it's  worn  out,  but 
in  the  country  they'll  cram  the  school-houses 
for  a  free  show  like  that.  And  if  Darcy  gets 
'em  in  front  of  him  with  them  facts,  and  his 
own  eloquence  and  a  jolly  lot  of  campaign 
songs  for  the  local  talent  to  sing — why,  don't 
you  see,  it  would  be  'great !  " 

"  I  see  the  advantages,"  said  the  national 
man,  dryly;  "  but  how  about  Darcy?  he's 
committed  to  the  other  side " 

"I  know,"  said  McGinnis,  with  a  sigh; 
"  we'll  have  to  put  up  a  good  deal  more 
dough." 

"  It's  merely  a  question  of  that  with  him?  " 

"  Just  that.  Ye  see,  he  ain't  got  the  money 
yet;  he's  dickering  with  them.  And  their 
offer  is  all  in  the  air,  while  ours  is " 

"  Spot  cash,"  said  the  national  statesman, 
dryly. 

McGinnis  permitted  himself  a  frank  grin. 
"  'Tis  as  I  expected.  Well,  gentlemen,  we 
got  Leroy,  we  got  him  for  nothing.  Now, 
'tis  agreed  we  want  Darcy?  " 


THJ£    WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION  69 

"  I  suppose  we  have  to  have  him,  d 

him!  "  groaned  the  respectable  local  states 
man.  "  When  can  you  get  him?  "  said  the 
national  man. 

McGinnis  edged  his  big  thumbs  into  the 
armholes  of  his  coat.  He  shed  a  radiant  Celtic 
smile  on  the  two  politicians,  thence  he  flung  it 
up  to  the  portraits  of  the  candidates  of  a  great 
party,  which  had  been  thoughtfully  tacked  on 
the  wall. 

"  I  have  got  him,"  said  he;  "I  got  him  to 
night," 

The  national  chairman  laughed  outright. 

"  Colonel,"  said  he,  suavely,  "  you  are  next 
the  bell,  do  you  mind  touching  it?  They  have 
a  choice  article  of  fizz  stowed  away  here ;  I  am 
not  willing  to  drink  Mr.  McGinnis's  health  in 
anything  less." 

"  Aw,  come  off!  "  cried  McGinnis,  in  bash 
ful  delight,  blushing  with  pleasure;  and  his 
blush  deepened  as  the  local  man  cleared  his 
brow  and  joined  in  the  laugh,  saying,  "  Well, 
there's  no  question,  McGinnis,  but  you're  a 
man  of  action.  Did  you — eh — ah — name  any 
figure  for  his  campaign  expenses?  " 

"  No,  only  intimated  I  knew  they  would  be 
large,  put  'em  a  notch  higher  than  the  other 


70  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

fellers'  notion.  '  Besides/  says  I,  *  you  want 
to  be  on  the  winning  side.  Now,  I'm  inside 
and  I  know  we  stand  to  win :  I  know  what  the 
canvassers  report;  I'm  betting  two  to  one  on 
us.' " 

"  Actually,  Mike?  "  said  the  national  man; 
he  had  never  called  him  Mike  before.  Mc- 
Ginnis  hoped  that  the  bell-boy,  who  was  at 
the  door  to  receive  the  order,  heard  that  one 
word,  as  the  door  opened. 

He  waited  until  it  closed  on  the  boy.  "  I 
am,"  said  he,  then;  "I  never  was  surer.  If 
we  can  git  Darcy  we  can  throw  enough  extra 
votes  right  here  to  help  us  out  with  two  States. 
I  bet  a  thousand  dollars  this  week,  and  I'm  a 
poor  man — comparatively,"  he  supplemented, 
with  a  grin. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  talk  that  way," 
said  the  local  man;  "  take  another  cigar."  He 
proffered  his  own  case  instead  of  the  box  on 
the  table. 

McGinnis  took  his  triumph  modestly-;  but 
it  warmed  his  soul.  He  had  risen  from  the 
ward  to  the  county ;  he  had  won  innumerable 
victories  first  on  the  spoils  side,  lately — such 
are  the  amazing  alliances  and  vicissitudes  of 
politics — on  the  side  of  honesty  and  reform; 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          71 

but  never  before  had  he  felt  himself  within 
the  mystic  circle  where  the  game  is  empire  and 
the  stake  the  destinies  of  a  nation.  He  had 
never  been  so  happy  since  poor  Polly  McGin- 
nis,  to  whom  was  reared  the  most  splendid  and 
tasteless  monument  in  Saint  Margaret's  Cem 
etery,  promised  to  be  his  wife;  and  suddenly 
his  heart  softened  with  a  tender  pain — if  only 
he  had  Polly  to  tell  it  all  to,  how  these  great 
gentlemen  treated  him  and  called  him  Mike. 
He  felt  so  much  that  his  florid  skin  lost  a  shade 
of  its  glow ;  and  he  sat  very  quiet  until  begged 
to  "  go  on." 

"  Well,  he  was  a  good  deal  impressed.  i  I 
suppose  you  folks  are  spending  money  like 
water/  says  he,  thoughtful  like.  '  Well,  we 
ain't  mean,'  says  I.  Then  I  gave  it  to  him 
straight,  he  would  git  more  from  us  than  from 
the  others.  And  I  outlined  the  campaign.  He 
was  tickled  with  the  stereopticon  and  cam 
paign-song  notion,  I  could  see  that !  '  Now,'  I 
says, '  you're  a  labor  leader,  and  you  know,  all 
nonsense  aside,  honest  injun,  labor  ain't  got 
nothing  to  gain  and  everything  to  lose  from 
this  new  fool  ruction;  come  on  and  help  the 
real  friends  of  the  workingman  for  once! 9 
Well,  he  begun  on  Harry  Leroy  and  consist- 


72  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

ency,  and  that  rot;  jest  his  vanity,  of  course. 
But  I  cut  right  in.  '  I  know  what  Harry  said 
about  Fanning;  it's  true,  too,  and  it's  true 
about  the  money  power,  and  how  your  fellers 
winning  will  affect  the  poor  man.  Ain't  it? 
Ain't  you  going  to  be  impressed  and  kinder 
haunted,  and  ain't  you  going  to  look  up  things 
more  to  down  him  than  anything;  and  ain't 
you  going  to  be  appalled,  simply  appalled  by 
what  you  find  ?  And  ain't  you  after  what  will 
help  the  workingman;  and  it  don't  cut  no 
ice  with  you  whether  folks  call  you  incon 
sistent  or  not — you  want  to  be  inconsistent 
when  you're  in  the  wrong.  And  you've  come 
to  the  conclusion  them  fellers  have  made  the 
hard  times  they  complain  of  themselves; 
they've  held  up  the  country,  and  now  you  ain't 
in  favor  of  electing  the  robbers  to  the  police 
force.'  That's  how  I  gave  it  to  him,  and  he 
tumbled  to  it  like  a  gentle  bird.  '  McGinnis,' 
he  says,  '  you're  great !  '  So  he's  all  right." 

"  And  you  brought  them  both  down  in  one 
night?  "  said  the  national  man. 

"  Well,  I  don't  claim  any  credit  for  Harry. 
I  only  lent  him  books.  It's  because  he's  white 
he's  with  us;  but  I  did  take  the  liberty  of  ask 
ing  him  to  come  around  here  to-night.  It's  a 


THE  WAY  OF  AN  ELECTION          73 

good  night,  being  Saturday;  and  I'd  like  real 
well  to  have  you  gentlemen  see  Harry  and 
give  him  a  kind  word.  After  all,  it's  all  he'll 
git." 

"  Is  he  downstairs  now? "  asked  the  na 
tional  man.  "  We'll  be  glad  to  see  him;  he'll 
take  the  taste  of  Darcy  out  of  our  mouths  a 
little." 

"  Well,"  deprecated  McGinnis,  "  Darcy's 
down  there,  too — in  a  private  room." 

The  national  man  smiled  grimly  while  the 
local  man  opened  the  door  to  admit  a  bell-boy 
with  two  silver  buckets,  piled  high  with  ice 
from  which  rose  a  refreshing  stream  of  cool 
ness.  The  national  man  motioned  him  to  an 
other  room;  and  McGinnis  gleefully  com 
mented  to  Michael,  "  He  won't  drink  with 
everybody;  bet  he  have  Darcy  in  first." 
Which,  indeed,  proved  to  be  the  case. 

The  interview  was  not  long;  McGinnis 
acted  as  master  of  ceremonies;  the  national 
man  went  directly  to  the  point — the  local  man 
was  communing  with  the  ice-buckets  in  the 
other  room. 

"  Mr.  Darcy,"  said  the  great  politician, 
"  Mr.  McGinnis  tells  me  that  you  are  good 
enough  to  be  willing  to  help  us  not  only  with 


74:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

your  paper  the — ah — Hammer,  but  in  the 
campaign.  I'm  very  glad  to  find  you  with 
us." 

"  I  have  refused  an  offer  of  two  thousand, 
sir,  and  my  travelling  expenses  to  stump  for 
the  other  side,"  said  Darcy,  firmly,  and  Mc- 
Ginnis  solemnly  nodded. 

"  That's  good,"  said  the  national  man,  smil 
ing,  "  for  you  see  that  is  precisely  what  we 
want  you  to  do!  You  know  Mr.  McGinnis's 
idea? " 

Darcy  said  that  he  had  heard  some  details; 
it  was  a  great  idea,  but — there  would  be  large 
expenses. 

The  national  man,  who  had  been  jotting 
down  figures  rapidly  on  a  sheet  of  hotel  paper, 
pushed  it  over  to  Darcy.  "  That's  my  esti 
mate.  It  may  come  to  a  little  less  or  a  little 
more ;  call  it  that  and  you  take  the  lump  sum. 
McGinnis  will  attend  to  the  statistician  and  the 
lantern,  etc. — separately.  If  the  arrangement 
is  satisfactory  I  can  give  you  half  now  and  the 
other  half  the  day  after  election.  I'll  make 
out  a  memorandum  which  you  can  sign." 

Darcy's  brilliant  eyes  flashed  as  they  saw 
the  figures.  His  black  brows  met,  however, 
when  he  read  the  "  memorandum,"  passed 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          75 

first  to  McGinnis,  and  receiving  a  glance  of 
heartfelt  admiration  from  that  astute  practical 
politician;  but  he  affixed  his  signature  in  si 
lence;  and  the  gleam  returned  to  his  eye  as 
the  national  man  offered  a  roll  of  bank-notes. 
"  Will  you  count  it?  "  said  the  national  man; 
"  one  makes  mistakes  occasionally.  Thanks." 
He  repeated  the  sum  in  his  crisp,  Eastern  ac 
cent.  "  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Darcy,  I  fancy  you 
are  going  to  set  the  prairies  afire.  You  should 
hear  our  friend  McGinnis  talk  about  you!  " 

"  Well,  you've  got  me  hard  and  fast,  gen 
tlemen,"  said  Darcy,  with  a  dry  glance  at  the 
receipt  which  the  national  man  was  stowing 
away  in  a  silver-rimmed  lizard-skin  pocket- 
book,  "  but  I  believe  your  cause  is  right;  and 
it  will  have  the  best  efforts  of  my  heart  and 
mind.  I'll  get  out  on  the  road  as  soon  as  we 
can  get  the  other  things  in  shape." 

"  A  cigar,  Mr.  Darcy?  "  said  the  national 
man,  politely;  and  again  Mr.  McGinnis  in 
wardly  grinned;  it  was  the  box  and  not  the 
cigar-case  that  was  offered.  "  Won't  you  come 
in  some  time  to-morrow?  We  are  to  have  a 
little  conference  of  the  workers.  They  will  all 
be  glad  to  see  you."  He  shook  Darcy 's  prof 
fered  hand,  or,  it  would  be  exact  to  say,  he  al- 


76  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

lowed  Darcy  to  shake  his  hand,  and  bade  him 
farewell  with  much  politeness. 

"  Don't  he  carry  it  off  well!  "  said  McGin- 
nis,  the  instant  the  door  closed  behind  the  ora 
tor's  figure;  "  well,  that's  one  kind  of  a  labor 
leader,  let's  see  the  other." 

"  Yes,  you  get  him,  and  we'll  get  out  the 
buckets,"  said  the  national  man.  And  his 
greeting  to  Leroy  and  the  talk  which  followed 
not  only  made  Leroy  wonder  in  his  modest 
soul,  but  further  convinced  McGinnis  that  the 
great  politician  understood  human  nature 
without  a  key.  "  Talked  right  out  before 
Harry  and  me,  both  of  them,  like  we  was 
on  the  ground  floor.  Hully  gee,  Michael, 
but  you  are  just  there,  and  don't  you  forget 
it." 

He  felt,  somehow,  a  sensation  of  gratitude 
to  Leroy,  a  new  respect  as  he  heard  his  own 
opinion  asked.  He  had  used  the  same  device 
in  smaller  matters,  many  a  time;  but  he  ex 
perienced  a  simple  kind  of  pleasure  now  that 
it  was  used  toward  him;  he  felt  at  the  same 
time  the  flattery  of  the  subtle  distinction  be 
tween  the  politician's  manner  to  Darcy  and  to 
his  present  auditors.  He  treated  them  like  po 
litical  equals.  Verily,  it  was  a  proud  and  hap- 


TEE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          77 

py  evening  to  Michael  McGinnis.  Leroy  bare 
ly  lifted  his  glass  to  his  lips;  he  never  drank; 
but  Michael  did  the  champagne  full  justice. 
Michael's  head  was  strong,  he  was  not  in  the 
least  dizzy  when  they  shook  hands  warmly 
with  the  great  men  and  went  out  of  the  hotel, 
together;  but  perhaps  before  those — Heaven 
forbid  I  should  betray  confidence,  I  being  an 
unseen  spectator,  and  give  the  definite,  cruel 
number  of  glasses! — before  the  champagne,  let 
us  say,  he  might  not  have  hummed  so  cheerily, 

44  Then  Ireland  shall  be  free, 
From  the  centre  to  the  sea, 
Says  the  Shan  van  Voght," 

or  encircled  Harry  Leroy's  neck  so  fraternally 
with  his  arm  as  they  sauntered  down  the 
lonely,  lighted  street. 

Harry  smiled;  but  in  a  second,  the  vulture 
that  had  been  clawing  at  his  heart  all  the 
evening,  and  that  had  relaxed  its  grip  for  the 
hour,  under  the  stress  of  higher  interests,  tore 
him  anew.  Involuntarily  he  sighed.  McGin- 
nis's  eyes  flashed.  "  Say,  Harry,"  said  he, 
looking  amiably  at  the  electric  lights,  "  I  had 
a  mighty  funny  thing  happen  to  me  to-day;  I 
was  down  your  way,  and  I  saw  a  little  special- 


78  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

delivery  boy — I  got  him  the  place,  he  lives  in 
the  Eighth  Ward — and  he  was  scorching  along 
to  your  house  and  nearly  ran  into  me.  I  asked 
him  where  he  was  going,  after  I  had  said  what 
was  proper  for  his  conduct — we've  got  to  have 
a  bike  law  in  this  place,  that's  sure  as  death! 
He  told  me  your  house,  and  showed  me  the  let 
ter.  I  recognized  Jay's  hand.  Fact  is,  I  had 
news  of  Jay  this  very  day,  and  I  suspected  that 
he  would  be  writing  you;  that's  why  I  ques 
tioned  the  boy.  I — I  guess  " — McGinnis 
dropped  his  arm  and  linked  it  in  Harry's — 
"  I  guess  Jay  told  you  about  that  note." 

"  How — "  began  Harry  and  stopped,  un 
certain  what  he  should  say. 

"How'd  I  know?"  said  McGinnis. 
"  Well,  fact  is,  Harry,  I  met  Meecham,  and  I 
bought  that  note." 

"  It's  endorsed  by  me,"  said  Harry,  huskily; 
"  I'll  pay  you,  Mac." 

"  !N"aw,  you  won't.  Jay  Sibley  will  pay 
that  note.  He'll  pay  every  last  cent.  Not 
jest  this  minnit,  but  as  the  money  comes  in. 
I'll  handle  that  young  man  without  gloves  for 
his  soul's  good.  He  ain't  my  brother-in-law! 
Don't  you  lose  a  mite  of  sleep,  Harry.  I'll 
fix  him  and  there  won't  be  no  scandal  or  bad 


THE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          79 

times.  It'll  all  come  right  in  the  wash.  You 
just  say  you've  seen  me,  or,  better  still,  you 
don't  say  nothing  at  all.  Pll  write  him;  and 
when  he  comes  up  here,  you'll  see  a  very  much 
reformed  and  penitent  young  man.  Here's 
your  street-car,  Harry — that's  all  right." 

He  had  pushed  Harry  and  his  broken  thanks 
onto  the  platform  as  he  spoke. 


A  month  later  Leroy  met  Darcy,  both  being 
on  their  wheels.  "  Well,  Darcy,  how  goes 
it  ? "  called  Harry,  with  a  cordiality  that  he 
had  not  felt  for  years;  "  I  hear  you  are  doing 
grand  work" 

Darcy's  wheel  was  shining  and  beautiful; 
Harry's  was  a  second-hand,  rattling  machine 
of  a  make  unknown  to  fame;  but  probably 
not  a  man  in  town  had  had  more  pleasure 
in  riding  than  he.  He  looked  tanned  and 
happy. 

"That  you,  Harry?  how  well  you  ride! 
Why,  things  seem  to  be  coming  our  way  all  the 
time.  But  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  tell  them- 
all — I  have  told  a  good  many,  that  I'm  one  of 
your  converts,  a  brand  snatched  from  tho 
burning,  as  it  were.  I  was  switching  off  on  tha 


80  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

other  tack  when  you  set  me  thinking — that 
evening  at  the  club,  you  remember — about 
old  Fanning.  I  began  to  look  things  up,  and 
I  was  appalled,  simply  appalled  at  what  I 
found  out." 

"I've  read  your  speeches,"  interrupted 
Harry,  "they  are  full  of  argument, 
facts " 

"  Yes,  when  I  came  to  look  things  up,  I 
found  there  was  only  one  ground  for  me  to 
£ake,  and  I  took  it.  I  want  to  be  right,  and 
".this  talk  of  consistency  doesn't  cut  any  ice 
with  me.  I  hope  you  get  the  Hammer  all 
right.  Say,  I  hear  you're  doing  a  lot  of  work 
Tight  along." 

•  "  The  best  thing  I  ever  did  was  to  convert 
you,"  said  Harry,  laughing;  "  I  never  could 
quite  take  that  story  into  camp  until  now,  and 
felt  I  was  getting  credit  under  false  colors; 
but  now  I  shall  '  point  with  pride  ' —  Well, 
good  luck  to  you,  and  let  me  know  if  I  can  help 
you  any  time." 

As  he  rode  along,  he  thought,  half  wist 
fully,  but  without  a  grain  of  envy,  "  I  wish 
I  had  that  man's  talent!  " 

Darcy  smiled  to  himself,  watching  him. 
"He's  dead  easy,"  he  muttered;  then,  all  of 


TEE  WAT  OF  AN  ELECTION          81 

a  sudden,  with  the  swift  transitions  of  his 
temperament,  he  bit  back  a  sigh. 

"  D it!  "  he  almost  groaned,  "  I  wish 

I  had  that  man's  conscience!  " 


THE 
MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION 


THE 

MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION 

THE  gas-jet  flared  unsheltered  above 
Thompson's  head,  painting  the  silhou 
ettes  of  three  men  on  the  white  plastered  wall. 
Thompson's  had  an  eagle  nose  and  pointed 
beard  (which  tilted  in  the  air,  as  he  talked); 
the  other  two  had  each  a  mustache  and  a  good, 
firm  jaw.  The  three  men  were  members  of  the 
Labor  Council,  although  belonging  to  differ 
ent  trades.  Thompson  was  a  printer.  He  had 
been  a  drinking  man,  inclined  to  riot  in  his 
cups;  but  it  was  an  open  secret  that  Harry 
Leroy  had  made  a  reformed  man  of  him ;  and 
now  he  merely  smoked  and  swore  to  excess, 
and  was  on  the  best  terms  with  the  police  force. 
The  other  two  were  hard-headed,  conservative, 
skilful  workmen  of  the  class  that  does  the  most 
for  the  unions  while  needing  them  the  least. 
The  man  with  the  heavy  mustache  was  a  car- 
85 


86  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

penter,  the  man  with  the  scanty  flaxen  mus 
tache  was  a  rougher  in  a  steel  mill. 

All  three  were  smoking,  all  three  wore  a 
troubled  air,  which  in  Thompson's  case  was 
tinctured  with  irritation. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  carpenter,  "  the  boys  de 
cided  to  keep  on  with  the  strike.  Going  to 
appeal  to  the  Council  to  help  'em.  That 
throws  it  all  on  us.  If  we  say  we'll  support 
the  strike,  why,  they'll  keep  it  up;  but  if 
Harry  can  hold  the  Council  back,  there  is  a  lot 
of  conservative  fellows,  married  men,  you 
know,  that'll  be  only  too  glad  of  a  chance  to 
take  what's  offered." 

"  They  were  offered  about  everything  that 
they  struck  for,  seems  to  me,"  Thompson 
grunted  between  puffs;  "  extra  hour  on  Sat 
urday,  grinders  got  the  rise  they  asked,  and 
they  promise  to  take  on  more  men,  so  the  fel 
lers  Haverly  bounced  can  all  get  back." 

"Will  he  take  'em  back,  though?"  said 
the  steel-worker,  "  he  used  'em  cruel  rough;  I 
guess  he's  made  the  strike,  and  'long's  he's 
there  no  man  who  has  dared  to  stand  up  to  him 
will  feel  safe.  And  they  ain't  going  to  give  in 
about  discharging  him,  you  bet!  That's  the 
way.  Nine  times  out  of  ten,  in  strikes,  it's 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION      87 

some  fool  boss  makes  the  row;  and  then  the 
firm,  instead  of  giving  him  his  walking  papers, 
stand  up  and  fight  for  him — 'cause  it's  dis 
cipline.  That  was  the  way  at  Homestead. 
That  was  the  way  at  Pullman.  And  that's  it 
here." 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  carpenter,  "  you 
don't  catch  me  doing  a  turn  in  the  Hollister 
Plough  Works  while  Ike  Haverly  is  Superin 
tendent;  and  all  the  other  concessions  don't  go 
while  he  stays." 

"  But  he  ain't  going  to  stay,"  said  Thomp 
son,  impatiently ;  "  they  won't  discharge  him 
under  fire,  that's  true  enough;  but  while  you 
boys  have  been  shouting  and  parading  and 
howling  at  Harry  because  he  won't  let  you 
boycott  the  other  companies  doing  business 
with  Hollister's,  he's  been  quietly  working  and 
making  sympathy  for  you  and  seeing  folks 
that  can  talk  up  to  Hollister;  and  Harry  told 
me  that  Haverly's  got  another  job  offered  him 
and  he's  going  to  take  it.  Next  month.  Harry 
says  so." 

Both  listeners  showed  excitement.  The  car 
penter  whistled.  "  That  ought  to  fetch  'em. 
Harry's  a  good  'un.  But — will  they  receive  a 
committee  from  the  Union  and  see  West  when 


88  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

he  comes?  Say  West  and  Harry,  West  for  the 
Unions,  and  Harry  for  the  Labor  Council?  " 

"Nit  That's  where  Hollister  says  he'll 
£ght  as  long  as  he's  got  one  brick  left  on  an 
other  in  his  factory.  He  admits  Haverly  was 
in  the  wrong  and  the  men  have  had  grievances. 
He's  willing  to  redress  them;  he'll  see  all  the 
committees  from  his  own  men  they  want  to 
send;  but  he  won't  see  outsiders.  That  he 
swears." 

"  That's  where  they'll  split,  then,"  the  steel 
man  sighed.  "  West  is  as  stiff  as  Hollister. 
He'll  come  down  to-morrow  night;  and  if  he 
makes  one  of  his  razzle-dazzle  speeches  to  the 
Council  there'll  be  no  holding  the  boys. 
They'll  be  for  endorsing  the  strike,  making  an 
assessment,  having  a  boycott,  and  anything 
else  the  hotheads  ask." 

"  He  ain't  got  half  the  sense  in  his  speeches 
Harry  has,"  snarled  Thompson. 

"  Maybe,"  admitted  the  steel  man,  "  maybe. 
Harry's  pretty  clear,  and  he  talks  sense  every 
•*ime;  but  the  trouble  with  Harry  is,  he  ain't 
got  no  magnetism.  And  West  is  chock  full  of 
it.  He  gits  them  to  shouting  before  they  know 
it.  It's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  I  do  be 
lieve,  to  make  men  do  fool  things.  There's 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION      89 

nothing  tremendously  exciting  about  sense — 
in  fact,  it's  kinder  dampening,  usually;  but 
you  can  make  an  awful  fine  speech  about  the 
way  the  laboring  man  is  ground  under  by  the 
Shylocks  and  the  tyrants  and  the  soulless  cor 
porations,  and  goading  and  prodding  them! 
Besides,  Victor  knows  lots  of  poetry  and  big 
words,  while  Harry's  speeches — why,  you  can 
understand  every  blamed  word  Harry  says." 

"  I  want  to  understand!  "  said  Thompson. 

"  So  do  I ;  but  it  ain't  so  grand.  But  the 
main  thing  against  Harry  is,  he  ain't  fiery 
enough ;  he's  all  for  law  and  order.  If  you 
knocked  him  down,  I  guess  he  wouldn't  do 
more  than  call  the  police !  " 

"  That's  all  you  know  of  Harry — hush  up, 
that's  his  knock!" 

Thompson  flung  back  the  door  and  Leroy 
entered,  mild,  gentle,  gravely  courteous  as  usu 
al.  Even  Thompson,  looking  at  him,  listening 
to  his  leisurely  tones  of  greeting,  swallowed 
a  sigh.  "  I  wish  he  didn't  have  that  under 
dog  look  about  him,"  thought  Thompson. 

"  I've  got  something  to  propose  to  you, 
boys,"  said  Leroy. 

Victor  "West  sat,  cramped  and  stifled,  in  the 


90  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

stuffy  chair-car  and  gazed  out  of  the  rigid 
storm-windows  that  had  been  screwed  into 
their  winter  position  to  repress  lawless  ventila 
tion.  The  yellow  kerosene  flames  swayed  in 
the  aisles,  and  the  darkening  landscape  with 
out  was  no  more  than  a  blur  of  trees  and  plain. 

"  I  suppose  the  brakeman  will  call  the 
place,"  thought  West,  "  and  anyhow  Leroy 
telegraphed  that  he  would  be  on  two  or  three 
stations  before.  I  wonder  if  he  thinks  he  can 
move  me."  His  lip  curled;  he  had  the  im-» 
petuous  nature's  contempt  for  the  moderate, 
cautious  man.  Leroy  had  seemed  to  him  (dur 
ing  the  two  times  of  their  meeting)  to  be  timid 
and  slow.  "  He  can  only  do  a  retail  business 
in  anything,"  was  West's  notion;  "probably 
he  is  not  a  physical  coward,  but  he  is  scared 
of  anything  big,  strikes  or  anything  else.  I 
must  stir  the  boys  up." 

He  laid  his  head  back  against  the  soiled  red 
phish ;  and  the  light  showed  how  pale  was  the 
skin,  how  sharply  cut  the  delicate  features. 
Many  a  rough  man  had  looked  up  at  that  hag 
gard  face  and  those  burning  brown  eyes  with  a 
swelling  of  the  heart.  West  had  a  charm; 
even  his  enemies  admitted  that.  There  was  a 
sweetness  in  his  boyish  radiance  of  hope,  his 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION      91 

frankness,  his  eager  cordiality  to  those  of  his 
own  party;  and  no  one  in  his  company  for 
half  an  hour,  could  resist  the  assurance  that 
he  was  absolutely  sincere.  While  he  rested, 
he  was  going  over  the  heads  of  his  speech. 
Argument,  invective,  appeal  thronged  tu- 
multuously  into  his  mind,  to  be  dressed  by 
every  resource  of  his  wit,  and  fancy,  and  pas 
sionate  faith  in  his  cause.  At  last,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  muttered  to 
himself,  "  Yes,  that  ought  to  fix  them!  " 

Just  at  this  moment  the  train  jarred  and 
moaned  itself  into  a  stop.  The  vast  purr  of 
the  engine  throbbed  in  his  ears,  pierced  by  a 
voice  at  his  elbow.  "  Excuse  me,  Mr.  "West?  " 

West  sprang  up  and  made  room  for  the  new 
comer  to  sit  beside  him.  Leroy  was  the  same 
neutral  tinted,  phlegmatic  soul  as  ever,  he  de 
cided — look  at  him  now  parting  his  coat-tails 
carefully  as  he  sat ;  neatly  arranging  his  over 
coat  across  his  knees;  and  trying  to  smooth 
the  pocket-flaps  over  something  that  bulged 
out  the  pocket.  What  a  Miss  Betty  he  was! 
And  such  a  fellow  thought  that  he  could  fight 
him  ! 

Victor  was  not  conscious  of  vanity;  con 
sidering  everything,  he  was  not  especially 


92  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

vain;  but  the  image  of  slow,  stupid,  moderate 
Harry  Leroy,  expecting  to  overquell  his  brill 
iant  self,  struck  him  as  funny.  And  yet  his  sen 
sitive  nerves  felt  an  attraction  in  Leroy.  And 
he  had  a  curious  kind  of  pity  for  his  sure  de 
feat.  He  began  the  conversation  in  a  kindly 
strain.  Leroy  went  to  the  point  at  once.  He 
told  his  story.  They  had  really  won  every 
thing  for  which  they  were  fighting.  Why  not 
accept  the  terms  offered  and  everybody  go 
back  to  work? 

"  How  about  the  Union? "  said  West, 
"  will  they  meet  us  ?  Will  they  recognize  the 
Unions? " 

"  They  won't  discriminate  against  any 
union  man;  they  won't  promise  not  to  em 
ploy  non-union  labor;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
about  all  the  men  do  belong." 

"  Will  they  let  you  and  me,  or  any  of  the 
Labor  Council  meet  them,  or  do  they  demand 
that  the  members  of  the  committee  they  see 
shall  be  their  own  men?  " 

"  They  want  them  to  be  their  own  men,  but 
they  may  belong  to  any  union.  I  understand 
the  point  you  would  make;  but  I  think  we  are 
risking  the  bone  running  after  the  dog  that 
took  it.  If  we  go  in  now  we  shall  get  what  we 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION      93 

are  fighting  for;  if  we  stick  it  out  for  a  point 
like  that  we  shall  lose  the  public  sympathy, 
and  the  firm  will  gain  it ;  and  feeling  will  get 
bad.  It  has  been  a  very  decent  strike  so  far. 
The  firm  hasn't  tried  to  get  in  new  men.  But 
they  will  if  we  stick  it  out;  and  that  means  the 
devil  of  a  time.  I  don't  think  we  ought  to 
risk  it." 

"  But  for  a  principle,"  said  West,  with  his 
pleading  smile.  "  I  hate  a  strike;  but  what 
are  a  dozen  strikes  if  we  win  a  principle  like 
that?  We  must  make  them  recognize  organ 
ized  labor." 

"  A  lost  strike  ain't  going  to  help  us." 

"  Ah,  but  we  sha'n't  lose  it;  and  if  we  do, 
it  will  be  after  such  a  fight  that  they  may  be 
ruined  men,  or  pretty  near  it." 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  see  how  Hollister's  men 
are  going  to  be  helped  by  ruining  Hollister. 
In  that  case,  they  are  out  of  a  job  for  good 
and  all." 

"  Someone  else  will  take  the  factory;  and 
you  may  be  sure  that  he  will  not  be  so  ready 
to  fight  labor." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  so  easy  to  sell  factories? 
It  may  be  six  months,  may  be  a  year,  may  be 
never,  and  the  men  have  got  to  live  mean- 


94  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

while;  there  are  their  meat  and  grocery  bills 
going  on  all  the  while,  and  their  children's  feet 
wearing  through  the  shoes.  You  talk  easily  of 
ruin,  but  an  employer's  ruin  ain't  no  fun  to 
the  men  he  employs." 

Something  in  his  tone  nettled  West;  it  con 
veyed  to  him  a  biting  idea  that  Leroy  thought 
him  young  and  crude,  and  unbusinesslike. 
Because  business  was  West's  weak  side  he  was 
the  prouder  of  his  capacity  therein,  and  the 
more  ready  to  flare  up  at  any  criticism.  He 
swallowed  his  chagrin,  but  it  rankled  within 
him. 

"  I  am  not  underestimating  the  hardships 
of  the  men  in  this  strike;  but  you  must  re 
member  I  have  to  look  out  for  not  only  them, 
but  for  labor  in  general.  Individual  hard 
ships  must  be  borne  for  the  sake  of  the  cause." 

"  If  the  cause  is  worth  it ;  but  it  ain't  worth 
keeping  decent,  honest,  hard-working  men 
awake  nights  just  to  get  a  blazing  triumph  for 
the  leaders  in  this  strike,  and  that's  what  it 
comes  to." 

West  reddened;  but  Leroy  checked  the 
words  on  his  lips  by  a  gesture,  while  he  con 
tinued:  "  I  know  you're  only  thinking  of  the 
real  welfare  of  workingmen.  So'm  I,  Mr. 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION      95 

West.  I  know  you  don't  care  for  any  personal 
glory,  or  victory,  or  any  of  that  slush.  You 
want  the  men  to  be  the  better,  not  the  worse 
for  this  strike.  And  so  do  I.  Say,  can't  we 
get  together,  somehow,  and  save  these  boys? 
They've  spent  all  their  money,  and  they're 
running  up  bills.  They  know  they  haven't  got 
a  chance  if  the  Council  don't  help  ?em  out; 
but  if  the  Council  backs  them  up  the  hot  heads 
will  win  out  and  we'll  all  be  in  the  mire  to 
gether.  We'll  have  to  be  assessed;  and  if,  as 
is  likely,  th^v  ask  a  boycott  or.  Hoi  lister,  then 
all  the  firms  tiiat  have  any  dea'iingb  with  him 
will  be  pulled  into  the  muss.  Here  we  are  at 
Cochrane's,  for  example;  we're  getting  along 
all  right,  we've  no  kick  coming.  Cochrane  is 
a  square  man;  I  tell  you  in  confidence,  he's 
helped  a  deal  to  get  this  proposition  from  Hoi- 
lister;  but  he  ain't  going  to  throw  his  friends 
overboard  at  any  union's  dictation;  and  be 
fore  we  know  we  would  be  walking  out  our 
selves  !  You  see  the  situation  ?  " 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Leroy,"  said 
West,  stiffly,  "  but  I  am  obliged  to  differ." 

Then  they  went  over  the  whole  ground 
again.  This  time,  in  the  sleeper,  where  (as 
Leroy  said)  they  could  talk  without  interest- 


96  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

ing  the  men  in  front  and  behind  them — and 
have  some  fresh  air.  Leroy  paid  for  the  seats. 
As  West  noted  him  fumbling  in  a  lank  pocket- 
book  for  a  fifty-cent  piece  not  too  readily 
found,  he  remembered  that  Leroy  had  contrib 
uted  more,  than  anyone  to  the  strike  fund; 
and  his  secret  irritation  at  the  conservative 
man's  criticism  softened;  almost,  he  felt  a 
moving  of  sympathy  for  the  slow,  stupid,  tim 
orous,  honest  fellow.  He  explained  his  posi 
tion  with  courtesy,  in  fact  with  gentleness. 
Nevertheless  Leroy  was  not  so  obtuse  that  he 
did  not  perceive  that  his  words  were  wasted. 
He  looked  intently  at  West,  whose  pale  cheeks 
were  flushed,  and  whose  eyes  sparkled  as  he 
talked.  "  You  put  your  side  well,"  he  said, 
"  I  hadn't  much  hope  I  could  make  you  see 
things  differently.  But — I'm  sorry."  He 
nodded  his  head  so  dismally  West  had  to 
straighten  his  lips. 

"  Here  we  are,"  Leroy  continued;  and  he 
motioned  to  the  porter  coming  for  the  bag, 
"  no,  we  don't  want  to  be  brushed."  But  he 
slipped  a  dime  into  the  man's  hand. 

Before  they  were  well  on  the  platform  the 
train  was  speeding  its  lights  away. 

"  It's  not  so  large  a  town  as  I  expected," 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION      97 

said  West,  blinking  in  the  semi-darkness,  and 
looking  down  the  one  long,  dimly  lighted 
street  visible;  "  where  are  the  boys?  " 

No  one  stood  about  the  little  shed  that 
served  for  a  station;  a  single  shabby  carriage 
was  drawn  up  to  the  platform. 

"  There's  the  hack,"  said  Leroy,  "  the  boys 
must  have  thought  the  train  would  be  late — 
it  never  is  on  time,  scarcely — and  stepped  over 
to  Ball's  to  get  a  glass  of  beer  while  they  were 
waiting;  I  guess  you'd  better  go  in,  while  I 
stir  them  up.  I'm  sorry — this  way,  Mr. 
West." 

West  had  no  suspicions,  although  the  recep 
tion  struck  him  as  cool,  and  he  did  not  half 
like  it.  He  got  into  the  carriage,  a  weather- 
beaten  country  "  hack,"  politely  reassuring 
Leroy.  It  was  undoubtedly  all  right,  the  com 
mittee  would  hear  the  train,  and  the  carriage 
was  there,  which  was  the  main  thing.  Leroy 
jumped  in  beside  him. 

"  We'd  best  look  'em  up,  I  guess,"  said  he, 
while  the  horses,  which  a  glance  had  told  West 
were  better  than  the  vehicle,  plunged  off  at  a 
gallop. 

"Are  they  running  away?"  cried  West 
when  Leroy  had  righted  him,  for  he  had 
7 


98  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

tumbled  across  the  seat  at  the  start.  Still  he 
did  not  suspect;  he  took  Leroy's  answer  for 
what  it  seemed. 

"No,  they're  just  a  little  fresh,  that's 
all." 

But  when  the  breakneck  speed  continued 
with  no  check,  and  no  sign  of  excitement  on 
the  box,  a  snake-like  fear  squirmed  into  West's 
consciousness. 

Thought  was  not  much  quicker  than  his  ac 
tion,  which  was  to  grab  the  handle  of  the  door. 
Instantly  his  arms  were  gripped  from  behind 
and  Leroy's  voice  was  in  his  ears,  as  pensive 
and  drawling  as  before,  yet,  be  it  his  imagina 
tion  or  not,  informed  with  a  sinister  resolve, 
"Be  still!  Keep  quiet  and  you  sha'n't  be 
hurt;  but  if  you  try  to  get  out,  I'll  have  to 
hurt  you." 

"  See  here,  this  is  kidnapping;  let  me  go!  " 

"Better  not  try!" 

The  tussle  was  strong  but  short.  West  was 
no  match  for  the  moulder's  muscles,  and  he 
sank  back  exhausted.  Not  a  word  had  been 
said.  "  I  suppose  you'd  shoot  me  rather  than 
let  me  go?  "  he  sneered. 

"  I'd  hate  to  do  that,"  said  Leroy,  gently. 

There  was  a  quality  of  such  inflexible  reso- 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION      9S> 

lution  in  his  tones  that  West  felt  a  thrill  crawl 
down  his  spine. 

"  Is  it  Harry  Leroy,  who  made  such 
speeches  for  law  and  order,  talking?  "  he  ex- 
claimedl  "  What  do  you  expect?  What  good 
will  this  do  you?  You  can't  mean " 

"  I  don't  mean  any  harm  to  you,  but  I  do 
mean  you  sha'n't  go  to  the  meeting  and  stir 
up  a  row  to-night.  I've  thought  this  all  out. 
I've  got  a  pair  of  handcuffs  in  my  pocket  and 
if  you  won't  be  quiet  I'm  plenty  strong  enough 
to  put  them  on  you.  And  I  will." 

"  It's  all  a  plot,  is  it?  I  suppose  luring  me 
into  the  Pullman  was  part  of  it." 

"  They  don't  call  out  the  stations,  there," 
said  Harry. 

"  And  I'm  nowhere  near  Fairport  or  the 
Mississippi? " 

"  Not  very  near,"  said  Leroy,  rattling  up 
the  ragged  shade. 

Prairie,  nothing  but  prairie,  dun  and  dark 
under  the  stars,  sweeping  off  in  darker 
ploughed  fields  or  lightening  in  the  glistening 
yellow-gray  stubble  of  shorn  corn,  and  devour 
ing  shadows  streaming  ahead  of  their  lamps 
and  their  horses'  flying  hoofs.  The  lights  of 
the  town  were  gone;  he  could  not  put  his  head 


100  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

out  the  window  to  find  them.  West  began  to 
feel  a  disagreeable,  gooseflesh  feeling.  He  re 
called  divers  stories  that  he  had  slurred  over 
lightly  in  the  past — "  The  men  had  been 
carried  away  by  their  natural  and  righteous 
indignation ;  they  misunderstood  and  went  too 
far  " — was  that  the  damf  ool  way  he  had  talked 
himself?  He  knew  better  now.  There  was  no 
safety  in  these  appeals  to  the  brute  court  of 
last  resort,  to-day  his  side,  to-morrow  it  might 
be  clean  against  him.  He  had  not  hated  those 
things  enough.  They  were  all  wrong.  But 
Leroy  couldn't  be  meaning  to  do  him  a  mis 
chief — he  had  been  seen  with  him,  the  con 
ductor  knew  him — did  he,  though?  Wasn't  the 
reckless  daring  of  Leroy's  plan  perhaps  its  best 
chance?  Curse  his  own  stupidity!  The  ar 
gument  was  only  a  trap.  And  he  had  let  this 
fellow  whom  he  despised  entrap  him!  He 
could  have  torn  his  hair,  but  for  the  childish 
ness  of  it.  He  did  grind  his  teeth.  Leroy 
never  offered  a  word.  They  sped  on,  now 
splashing  through  mud  and  now  rolling 
smoothly  over  the  elastic  turf. 

West's  fevered  brain  kept  a  whirl  as  rapid 
as  the  horses'  hoofs.  A  new  spectre  flaunted 
before  him.  He  might  be  kept  in  captivity 


THE  MOMENT  OF  O^AK  ''.  yJUJTO'K   101 


and  released  drugged,  with  hideous  slanders 
about  him  that  would  ruin  him.  He  had  from 
a  sneerer  at  Leroy  become  willing  to  fear  al 
most  anything  from  his  dare-devil  cunning. 
His  mind  went  back  to  his  speech,  whereupon 
involuntarily  he  groaned. 

"  Fm  sorry  to  disturb  you  so  much,"  said 
Leroy's  soft  accents,  "  but  I  take  it  it's  better 
one  man  should  suffer  than  four  or  five  hun 
dred,  and  maybe  a  great  many  more." 

West  disdained  to  answer,  so  spent  was  he 
with  his  unavailing  wrestle  and  his  fury  that 
he  was  afraid,  indeed,  that  his  voice  might 
break.  Silence  fell  between  them  and  lasted 
a  long  while.  The  horses'  lope  changed  into 
a  good,  round  trot  that  did  not  slacken  until 
they  jolted  over  the  rails  of  an  electric  road, 
and  West  saw  the  glimmer  from  a  car  flood  the 
seat  and  Leroy's  features,  a  second,  before  it 
faded.  The  horses  broke  into  their  gallop 
again.  In  what  seemed  a  half  hour  to  West 
(but  he  was  aware  he  was  not  likely  to  com 
pute  time  accurately)  the  coachman  silently 
pulled  them  up.  The  carriage  stopped,  and 
Leroy,  raising  his  own  window,  whistled 
twice.  The  whistle  was  answered  by  a  num 
ber  of  whistles  in  different  keys. 


$8E  II  K  ART  OF  TOIL 


"  All  right/'  said  Leroy,  "  we  stop  here.  If 
you  don't  resist  or  try  to  skip,  no  harm  will  be 
offered  you.  Please  get  out." 

The  coachman  had  extinguished  the  lan 
terns.  By  the  starlight  the  forms  of  two  men 
were  dimly  outlined  in  the  shadow  of  the  lilac 
bushes  before  a  gate.  West  opened  the  door. 
He  expected  them  to  take  him  by  the  arm. 
They  did  not  move,  but  he  heard  Leroy's  foot 
fall  on  the  gravel  behind  him.  In  front,  at  the 
end  of  a  winter-stung  garden  of  mingled 
flowers  and  vegetables,  such  as  one  meets  in 
the  Western  farming  country,  was  a  two-story 
wooden  cottage,  painted  some  dark  color,  with 
the  usual  piazza  and  a  withered  vine  clinging 
to  the  light  pillars.  The  lower  rooms  of  the 
cottage  were  lighted,  but  the  shades  were 
closely  drawn.  West  thought  of  Dr.  Cronin 
and  the  death-trap  in  Chicago.  He  halted. 
At  the  same  instant  he  heard  the  noise  of  a 
carriage  driving  rapidly  away,  and,  turning 
his  head,  he  saw  the  swaying  back  of  their 
"  hack  "  as  it  jolted  over  the  prairie. 

"  Please  go  on,"  said  Leroy. 

West  walked  up  to  the  house  in  spite  of  him 
self,  but  at  the  piazza  he  stopped.  "  If  you  are 
going  to  murder  me  you  can  do  it  outdoors  !  " 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION    103 

Those  were  the  words  on  his  tongue,  but  they 
never  were  spoken,  because,  even  as  his  hands 
clinched  and  his  lips  parted  for  them,  the  door 
was  swung  open,  and  a  voice  cried,  heartily, 
"  Come  in,  Yi;  what  are  you  waiting  for?  " 

West's  heart  gave  a  great  jump  of  relief. 
Mighty  well  did  he  know  that  tall,  square- 
shouldered  shape,  that  bald  head  with  grizzled 
curls  about  it,  and  those  honest,  twinkling  gray 
eyes;  and  even  better  he  knew  the  thin  little 
woman  behind,  whose  still  comely  features 
were  palpitating  with  good-will. 

Instantly  he  was  wringing  the  man's  hard 
hand,  and  reaching  his  free  hand  to  the 
woman. 

Why,  he  even  knew  the  rag  carpet  on  the 
floor  and  the  Rogers  group  of  "  Weighing  the 
Baby  "  that  stood  on  a  familiar  marble-topped 
table  in  the  comer. 

"Why,  Uncle  Phil  Smith!"  he  cried, 
"  Aunt  Maggie,  is  this  really  you  ?  " 

"It's  us  both,  Yi,"  answered  the  man, 
"  sorry  and  glad,  both,  to  see  you  this  minute ; 
will  you  go  to  the  kitchen  sink  to  wash  your 
hands  like  you  used  to,  or  go  upstairs  to 
your  room?  Supper'll  be  ready  soon's  you 


104:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

West,  bewildered,  turned  his  head  to  find 
Leroy.  Leroy  was  not  in  the  room.  The  door 
was  shut. 

"It's  locked,  Vi,"  said  Smith,  quietly, 
"  locked  outside.  And  those  shadows  on  the 
winder  curtains,  them's  men.  I  hope  you 
won't  try  to  get  out,  Vi;  it  would  only  make 
you  trouble." 

"Where's  Leroy?" 

"  He's  had  to  go  back  to  town,  by  the 
'lectric  cars,  to  catch  the  next  train  for  Fair- 
port,  so's  he  can  speak  in  a  meeting  they  have 
to-night." 

"  And  you  would  keep  me  a  prisoner  here ! 
Uncle  Phil,  I  didn't  think  that  of  you,  I  did 
not." 

"  I  got  to  do  it,  Vi,"  said  Smith,  quietly. 

"  Besides,  he  thinks  it  right  to  do  it ;  and 
so  do  I,"  Mrs.  Smith  added.  "Pa  and  I  don't 
want  those  poor  boys  to  keep  up  the  strike  any 
mor'n  Harry  does.  Nor  you  wouldn't  neither 
if  you  knew  as  much  as  Harry  does  about 
things;  but  I  told  Harry  just  how  set  you 
could  be,  for  all  you  were  the  sweetest-tem 
pered  and  kindest  boy  I  ever  knew  except — 
except  my  Hughey !  " 

Her  voice  changed  on  the  last  word  and  she 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION    105 

turned  abruptly;  and  the  man's  eyes  followed 
her  as  she  went  out  of  the  room. 

West  gasped.  He  did  not  know  as  much  as 
Harry  Leroy!  And  Mrs.  Smith,  who  had 
been  almost  a  worshipper,  to  tell  him !  But  he 
answered,  civilly.  "  You  don't  realize  the 
danger  you're  in.  This  is  nothing  better  than 
kidnapping.  I  can  have  Henry  Leroy  arrested 
the  minute  I  get  to  Fairport.  It's  against  the 
law.  I  can  send  him  to  the  pen !  " 

"  You'd  have  to  send  us,  too,  then,  Yictor; 
and  I  don't  think  you'd  do  that."  The  elder 
man  was  smiling  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  suppose  if  I  try  to  get  out  of  this  trap, 
you'll  knock  me  down  and  sit  on  me.  But  you 
know  I  can't  go  back  on  you.  Oh,  yes,  Leroy 
is  slick.  That's  what  he's  banking  on,  is  it  ?  " 

"Why,  you  see,  Yictor,"  said  Smith,  "it 
ain't  no  use  to  git  excited  and  throw  open  the 
throttle.  If  you  do  git  back  to  Fairport  to 
morrow,  by  that  time  Harry'll  have  the  strike 
all  called  off  and  the  men  will  be  back  at  work 
again,  and  it  won't  be  so  easy.  No,  Yictor, 
Harry's  got  the  brakes  on  and  you  got  to  quit, 
and  you  best  quit  easy.  Ma's  making  them 
corn  griddle-cakes  you  used  to  like  so,  and  she's 
frying  some  sausages  and  potatoes  and  making 


106  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

coffee,  and  we  got  a  good  bed  for  you  upstairs. 
And  though  it  is  a  kinder  queer  way  to  meet 
again,  and  we  wish  you  felt  different  about  it, 
we're  real  glad  to  see  you,  Vi." 

"  If  I  must  be  in  prison,"  said  West,  "  I 
couldn't  ask  kinder  jailers,  that's  sure!  " 

He  smiled  his  radiant,  winning  smile;  and 
it  was  a  surprise  to  have  Smith  wince.  Why? 
But  he  was  chilled  and  hungry  and  there 
would  be  no  harm  in  watching  his  chance  to 
escape  and  meanwhile  eating  supper.  He  had 
no  kinship  with  the  Smiths,  although  he  called 
them  "  Uncle  "  and  "  Aunt;  "  but  when  he 
came  to  Chicago,  a  lonely,  ambitious  orphan 
boy,  he  had  boarded  for  five  years  with  them. 
They  were  very  kind  to  him.  Years  ago  he 
had  left  them.  At  the  time,  his  heart  was 
warm,  remembering  a  thousand  little  kind 
nesses,  yes,  and  kindness  not  little ;  and  he  ex 
pected  to  keep  up  the  old  intimacy  always. 
But  they  were  shy  people,  and  he  was  a  busy, 
rising  man.  Somehow  the  wave  had  lifted 
him  and  washed  them  out  of  his  sight.  It  had 
been  years  since  he  had  seen  them.  Now,  his 
keen  eyes  were  all  over  the  room  questioning 
the  furniture.  That  was  the  old  photograph 
on  the  table  that  he  used  to  show  to  Hughey. 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION    107 

No  trace  of  Hughe y,  where  was  he?  The  col 
ored  photograph  was  little  Maggie.  But 
where  was  she?  It  would  be  awkward  to  ask 
and  be  told  the  child  was  dead.  A  sweet  little 
creature  she  was,  too,  and  so  fond  of  him.  He 
didn't  like  the  looks  of  the  room,  either;  every 
thing  neat  as  wax,  to  be  sure,  but  the  furniture 
wasn't  the  old  furniture,  it  was  cheap  and  new 
and  awful  little  of  it.  The  table  spread  for 
supper  didn't  have  as  pretty  dishes  as  he  re 
membered,  and  where  were  those  "  solid  sil 
ver  "  spoons  that  had  been  Aunt  Maggie's 
pride?  He  did  hear  that  Smith  had  lost  his 
engine  in  the  '94  strike.  Blacklisted,  perhaps 
(and  his  heart  swelled),  "  Papa  Smith  "  as  the 
boys  called  him,  the  most  faithful  man  who 
ever  rode  an  engine  at  death  to  save  his  pas 
sengers.  He  wished — but  how  could  he  keep 
track  of  folks  that  wouldn't  try  to  look  him 
up?  Nevertheless,  he  began  his  inquiries  at 
supper.  "  Uncle  Phil,"  he  said,  "  I  tried  to 
find  you  in  '94,  but  you'd  moved  away." 

"  There !  "  cried  the  woman,  impulsively, 
"  I  told  you,  pa!" 

"  So  you  did,  ma,"  Smith  admitted,  "  and 
I'm  real  glad  you  was  right.  Well,  I  knowed 
myself,  Vi,  if  you  knowed  the  fix  we  was  in, 


103  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

you'd  have  come  a  running  to  help  us,  but 
there!" 

"  Why  didn't  you  write  me?  " 

Smith  looked  shamefacedly  at  his  wife. 
"  Why,  fact  is,  I  did  write ;  asked  if  you  hap 
pened  to  know  of  a  job.  But,  fact  is,  I  wasn't 
up  to  more  than  a  postal  card,  then," — he 
grinned  awkwardly — "  and  I  wrote  it  on 
that." 

"  I  never  got  it,"  exclaimed  West,  prompt 
ly,  but  he  changed  color,  remembering,  ab 
ruptly,  how  he  would  let  the  typewriter  sort 
over  his  mail;  and  how  little  attention  was 
paid  to  postals.  He  hastened  to  say  that  he 
had  once  gone  out  to  their  house  in  Kenwood. 

"Yes,  I  lost  the  house,"  said  Smith; 
"  pretty  rough.  I  had  it  half  paid  for,  and  I 
had  to  sell  it  for  two  hundred  and  twenty 
dollars.  You  see  the  engineers  wasn't  out; 
but  I  went  to  hear  'Gene  Debs  one  night,  and 
he  worked  me  up  so  I  didn't  see  straight. 
Hadn't  any  grievance,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to 
leave  the  boys,  and  they  were  calling  me  a 
scab,  and  that  speech  tumbled  me  off  my  base. 
I  jumped  off  my  engine  when  I  found  the  sol 
diers  was  going  on  my  train.  More'n  that,  be 
ing  plumb  crazy,  I  went  out  with  the  crowd. 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION    109 

They  were  throwing  rocks.  /  wasn't;  but 
who  was  to  know  that  ?  I  looked  up  and  I  saw 
the  old  man  himself,  the  president  of  the  road, 
looking  right  at  ine.  I  s'pose  they  marked  me 
down  for  a  violent  rioter,  that  minnit." 
"  And  so  they  blacklisted  you?  " 
"  Well,  you  see  there  has  been  such  a  sight 
of  men  looking  for  jobs  on  railways,  and  such 
a  awful  few  railroad  jobs  to  give  ?em  that  it 
was  no  more  than  nature  for  the  railroads  to 
stand  by  the  men  who'd  stood  by  them,  and 
give  the  other  fellers  who  had  made  'em  such 
a  lot  of  trouble  the  marble  heart.  And  I  got 
it.  I'd  an  awful  hard  time.  Once  or  twice  I 
got  a  engine,  sorter  scrub  engine,  of  course; 
but  in  a  little  while  I'd  be  laid  off.  God  knows 
whether  'twas  the  blacklist  or  they  really 
didn't  have  the  work,  like  they  said.  I  had  to 
go,  anyway.  We'd  a  hard  time,  Yi,  a  awful 
hard  time.  Ma,  she  went  out  as  scrub-woman, 
she  did,  when  we  was  at  the  worst — after  little 
Maggie  died.  She  caught  cold  one  day  and 
had  a  bad  cough,  and  it  got  worse  and — that's 
how.  I  ain't  been  the  same  man  since,  I  guess. 
You  remember  how  Maggie  and  me — I  guess 
there  never  was  a  parent  set  more  by  a  child ; 
and  there  never  was  a  child  was  better  or 


110  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

brighter — and  always  laughing,  don't  you  re 
member,  Vi?  fall  down  and  hurt  herself  and 
scramble  up  on  her  little  fat  legs  and  lift  up  her 
little  face  with  her  lip  a  quivering,  but  laugh 
ing.  '  Pa  and  Maggie  don't  cry! '  says  she — 
because  I  said  that  to  her  after  I  got  burned 
in  the  accident,  you  know;  she  was  pitying  me 
.  so.  And  she  made  it  her  own  word,  ever  after 
ward." 

"  I  hope — I  wish  I  could  have  done  some 
thing — Uncle  Phil,  this  is  awful!  " 

"  She  had  every  comfort,  Victor,"  said 
Mrs.  Smith. 

"  Yes,  she  did,"  said  Smith,  "  'twas  then  I 
sold  the  house." 

"  And  Hughey?    Couldn't  he  help  you?  " 

Mrs.  Smith  said  something  about  cakes,  and 
rose  hastily,  in  spite  of  West's  protest  that  he 
didn't  wish  any  more  cakes. 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  heard  about  Hughey, 
Victor  " — sinking  his  voice — "  don't  speak 
about  it  before  ma.  You — you're  about  the 
only  one  of  our  friends  I'd  be  willing  to  have 
know  it,  but  I  guess  you  know  the  sorter  boy 
Hughey  was,  and  you  won't  be  hard  on  him; 
he  jest  went  crazy,  Hughey  did — in  that 
strike.  He  threw  up  his  job's  fireman;  and 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION    III 

after  the  strike  was  over  he  got  to  running 
with  a  awful  bad  lot  that  cursed  all  the  rich 
folks  and  said  that  property  was  robbery,  and 
poor  Hughey,  he  was  always  that  tender 
hearted  you  know,  always  from  a  child;  and 
he  fairly  went  wild.  He  heard  about  a  job  in 
Fairport,  at  Cochrane's,  fireman  to  the  sta 
tionary  engineer.  He  didn't  git  much  wages 
and  his  crazy  friends  was  always  at  him. 
Well — they'd  a  safe,  of  course.  There  was 
two  men,  they  got  at  Hughey.  They  got 
round  him."  The  father  looked  appealingly 
at  West.  "  You  know  how  easy  it  was  to  git 
round  Hughey.  And  he  didn't  think  it  was 
wrong.  That's  how  it  was.  They  caught 
them.  Hughey  only's  got  a  year.  Ma's  been 
to  see  him.  She  says  he  feels  a  good  deal 
changed.  Harry  Leroy,  he's  been  awful  good 
to  him.  He  was  a  good  friend  of  his  at  the 
trial,  too.  Telling  about  how  faithful  Hughey 
was  at  his  work.  Harry's  been  awful  good  to 
Hughey.  It  might  be  worse,  don't  you  think, 
Yi?  Cochrane  says  he'll  take  him  back  and 
give  him  another  show.  And  Harry's  talking 
to  him  'bout  them  notions  of  his.  .  I — would 
it  be  too  much  trouble  for  you  when  you're  in 
Fairport  to  go  see  him,  Yi?  He  thinks  a  lot 


112  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

of  you.    He  used  to  git  all  your  speeches  when 
they'd  come  out  in  the  papers." 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  go,"  said  West.  He  spoke 
the  truth;  any  kindness  to  the  Smiths  would 
be  a  relief  to  his  conscience.  "  But,  see  here, 
yourself?  "  West  asked,  "  isn't  there  any  way 
I  can  help  you  ?  " 

Smith's  brow  cleared;  he  smiled  like  the  old 
"  Papa  Smith  "  West  used  to  know. 

"That's  jest  like  you.  Ma!  Victor's  got 
his  hand  in  his  pocket " — which  was  true — 
"  he  wants  to  give  us  some  of  his  mun." 

"  Not  on  your  life,  Vi,"  called  Mrs.  Smith, 
heartily.  She  pattered  in,  her  hands  full. 
Her  eyes  were  red,  but  she  was  smiling. 
"  You're  jest  the  same  Yi,  if  you  have  got 
famous.  You  keep  your  money;  we  don't 
need  it,  pa's  got  a  good  job — Pa,  you  tell  Vi 
how  you  got  your  job!  " 

It  was  a  relief  to  have  Smith  plunge  into  the 
new  subject  with  a  glance  at  his  wife  and  a 
sputtering  laugh.  "  Why,  it  was  this  way, 
Victor.  I'd  been  tramping  for  most  two  years 
when  I  run  into  a  job  here.  Got  a  stationary 
engine.  Dirt  train.  She  was  the  worst  old 
terror  I  ever  struck,  running  loose  all  the  time, 
and  kicking  up  sech  a  noise  you'd  think  she'd 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION    113 

bust,  next  minnit.  But  I  was  awful  glad  to 
git  her.  And  I  did  my  darndest  to  please  and 
hold  my  job.  Hung  on  all  spring,  all  sum 
mer.  Feeling  kinder  easy  when,  one  day,  who 
should  I  see  in  front  of  me  but  the  old  man. 
Him!  The  pipe  tumbled  out  of  my  mouth 
and  me  on  all  fours  after  it,  to  pick  up  the 
pieces.  I  felt  like  I  was  all  crumpled  up.  He 
never  said  a  word  to  me.  No  more  I  never  said 
a  word  to  him.  Picked  up  the  pieces  of  that 
pipe  and  he  was  gone  off.  First  I  thought  I 
wouldn't  tell  ma;  then,  I  thought  I  wouldn't 
want  her  keeping  things  from  me;  and  I  re 
membered  we'd  been  through  a  good  deal  to 
gether;  and,  fact  is,  I  had  to  tell  her.  And 
she  advised  me  right  straight  to  tell  the  old 
man  the  whole  story,  'bout  little  Maggie  and 
all.  But  I  couldn't  bring  myself  to  that.  I 
went  back  next  day,  in  an  awful  sweat,  figur 
ing  on  brassing  it  out  as  John  Smith.  And  I 
guess  you  could  have  wrung  me  out  like  a  wet 
rag  when  I  seen  the  old  man  bearing  down  on 
me.  He's  a  little,  fleshy  man,  and  wears  a 
brown  overcoat  that  never's  buttoned ;  and  be 
fore  the  strike  I  used  to  think  he  was  a  real 
pleasant  gentleman,  and  often  had  a  word 
with  him.  He  used  to  be  a  poor  boy  himself, 
8 


114:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

you  know.  But,  that  day,  when  I  seen  him 
steering  for  me,  and  thought  of  Maggie  at 
home  and  all  the  misery  I'd  seen,  I  was  equal 
to  murdering  him,  if  we'd  been  off  by  our 
selves.  He  was  on  me  before  I  had  got  my 
story  clear  in  my  mind.  (  What's  the  matter 
with  that  engine,  Phil? '  says  he. 

"  '  Nothing  but  age/  says  I — then  it  come 
to  me,  I'd  answered  to  my  name.  You  see  a 
man  gits  so  infernally  used  to  his  own  name 
it's  hard  to  drop  it.  '  My  name  ain't  Phil,' 
says  I, '  it's  John  William,  they  most  generally 
call  me  John,  here  ' — yes,  they  did,  too,  and 
lots  of  trouble  I  had  remembering,  and  plenty 
of  times  I  didn't  remember  and  wouldn't  an 
swer  quick.  But,  there,  I  stood  scowling  at 
him  and  wondering  whether  I  wouldn't  break 
his  head  if  he  gave  me  the  bounce  and,  '  My 
name's  John  William  Smith,'  says  I.  '  You 
used  to  be  an  honest  man,  Phil,'  says  he, 
'  when  I  knew  you.  I  was  so  sure  of  you  in 
the  strike  I  told  Kane  to  have  an  engine  ready 
for  you,  I  knew  you  wouldn't  be  scared.7 
Then,  somehow,  I  remembered  what  ma  said 
and  it  didn't  seem  so  hard  to  do  it ;  and  it  all 
come  out.  I  told  him  the  whole  story,  black 
list  and  all;  and  I  stuck  my  eyes  on  the  but- 


TEE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION    115 

tons  in  his  vest — his  overcoat  was  a  flying,  way 
it  always  had,  no  matter  what  the  weather — 
and  I  couldn't  see  how  he  was  taking  it;  but 
what  I  did  see  was  three  men  come  bustling  up 
to  him.  And  I  stopped  short  and  looked  up 
at  him;  the  men  were  right  in  hearing.  What 
do  you  think  he  said?  He  said,  '  That's  all 
right,  Phil!  '  It  turned  me  so  queer  I  most 
couldn't  keep  on  my  feet ;  and  I  couldn't  tell 
either  what  he  meant  to  do;  but  that  night  I 
found  out,  for  the  agent  he  come  out  and  says 
he,  '  You're  always  scouring  up  that  old  tub, 
Smith,  but  I  guess  I'd  let  the  new  man  do  that, 

to-night.'     'What  in  h do  you  mean?' 

says  I,  but  I  guessed  I  knew,  else  I  wouldn't 
have  spoke  so  rough;  and  I  guess  he  did,  too, 
for  he  laughed  out, '  You  lost  your  job,  Smith; 
but  you've  got  a  better,  you're  to  take  out  !N"o. 
253  on  the  freight  in  future;  and  you  better 
be  slinging  your  oil-can  over  there  where  it  is 
waiting!  '  You  bet  I  didn't  mind  them  laugh 
ing  at  me,  then.  And  yet,  when  I  seen  the 
president,  that  very  next  morning,  me  leaning 
out  of  my  cab  and  feeling  like — well,  I  can't 
tell  you  how  I  felt  feeling  an  engine  under  me 
that  could  'go! — will  you  believe  I  jest 
couldn't  say  nothing,  couldn't  do  nothing  but 


116  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

swaller  and  swaller  and  look  like  a  fool. 
'  That's  all  right,  Phil/  says  he,  again,  and  off 
before  I  could  git  my  tongue  loose. " 

West  was  not  as  ready  as  usual  with  a  re 
ply;  but  he  said  that  he  was  heartily  glad 
Phil  had  his  job  back  again.  "  I'm  to  have  a 
passenger  next  month,"  said  Phil,  "  I've  got 
all  my  dues  paid  up.  I'm  square  with  the 
union.  But,  I  guess  you  can  see  why  I  ain't 
stuck  on  strikes.  And  maybe  a  little  why  I'm 
helping  Harry." 

"  I  see,"  said  West.  He  made  an  excuse  to 
go  up  to  his  own  room  for  a  few  moments 
while  Mrs.  Smith  washed  the  dishes.  He  stood 
in  the  centre  of  the  bare  little  room  and 
thought  hard.  He  was  accustomed  to  regard 
himself  as  an  honest  man,  a  soldier  of  human 
ity,  to  be  frank,  as  a  fine  fellow — only  we 
never  coarsely  tell  ourselves  that  we  are  fine 
fellows,  we  simply  feel  it,  as  we  feel  cold  or 
warm  or  hungry.  West  had  felt  the  delicate 
intoxication  of  satisfied  vanity;  but  he  had 
never  imagined  the  glow  and  the  elation  to 
come  from  vanity;  he  credited  it  all  to  an  ap 
proving  conscience.  !N"ow,  he  looked  at  a 
strike  from  Harry  Leroy's  point  of  view. 
Poor  Hughey!  what  a  tender-hearted  little 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION   117 

chap  he  was  in  those  days,  with  a  funny  little 
face  that  would  tie  itself  up  in  knots  of 
anguish  over  West's  tales  of  kidnapped  chil 
dren.  And  how  Hughey  and  Mrs.  Smith 
used  to  cheer  him,  that  first  year  when  he  was 
admitted  to  the  United  Brotherhood  of  Car 
penters,  E"o.  8,  by  listening  breathlessly  to  all 
his  speeches  and  weeping  all  through  the 
speech  he  made  for  Hiram  Dixon's  funeral. 
It  was  a  little  more  than  he  had  bargained  to 
pay  for  his  pathos,  however,  to  have  Mrs. 
Smith  give  up  the  treat  she  had  planned  and 
spend  all  the  cyclorama  money  for  flowers 
"  for  that  poor  motherless  lad  you  were  telling 
us  about,  Vi."  Dixon  was  really  only  a  sub 
ject  for  oratory  to  Victor;  but  he  suppressed 
his  feelings  and  wove  Mrs.  Smith's  and 
Hughey's  self-denial  into  his  speech,  later, 
with  gratifying  effect.  His  heart  softened,  re 
membering  how  the  two,  mother  and  son,  al 
ways  came  any  distance  to  hear  him  speak. 
Often  he  would  see  the  little  woman  and  the 
boy  sitting  as  near  as  they  could  get;  their 
faces  glowing  at  every  sentence.  He  could  see 
the  proud  glances  they  exchanged !  And  how 
happy  they  seemed  on  those  few  nights — con 
found  it!  why  were  they  not  more? — when 


118  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Victor  would  make  part  of  the  toilsome  car 
journey  back  with  them! 

Once,  Mrs.  Smith  had  looked  troubled; 
she  even  adventured  a  timid  criticism  at  the 
end  of  the  lecture.  "  Ain't  you  a  little  too 
hard  on  the  plutograts,  Vi?  Some  of  them  are 
good  men,  and  I've  known  of  their  doing  kind 
things  right  here  in  Chicago.  You  know 
Hughey  takes  everything  you  say  for  gospel." 
He  wasn't  to  blame  for  Hughey.  No,  he 
wouldn't  take  that  load  on  his  soul;  the  other 
men,  the  cursed  railroad  sharks — he  laughed 
uneasily — or  the  cursed  fools  who  ran  men 
into  a  hopeless  strike.  And  yet  he  wished  that 
he  had  kept  an  eye  on  the  Smiths.  But  he  was 
so  infernally  busy,  studying  and  working, 
burning  the  candle  at  both  ends;  and  they 
never  pushed  themselves.  Why  didn't  they 
push  themselves  a  little  ?  they  had  no  right  to 
expect  him  to  do  all  the  seeking  out,  why  didn't 
they  hunt  him  up  in  their  distresses?  But  he 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  phrase;  for  he  re 
membered  when  the  Smiths  did  hunt  him  up ; 
when  he  was  hurt  by  the  car  and  lay  for  a 
month  at  the  hospital.  Never  a  visiting  day 
passed  that  one  of  them  did  not  come,  always 
with  some  little  offering.  Little  Maggie 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR   VISION    119 

worked  him  a  pin-cushion  and  Hughey  drew 
on  his  hoard  at  the  savings  bank  to  buy  a  bottle 
of  port  wine,  and  Smith  had  spent  a  whole  af 
ternoon,  taking  him  to  drive.  West  sank 
down  in  a  chair  and  groaned.  No,  curse  it, 
there  was  no  use  excusing  himself;  Leroy  had 
been  a  better  friend  to  these  trusting,  loyal 
souls  than  he.  For  one  sickening  moment,  Le 
roy  seemed  to  have  the  right  of  it  in  other 
ways.  Then,  his  confidence  in  himself 
righted;  but  it  had  changed  places  in  that 
searing  light.  He  pushed  the  vision  out  of  his 
mind,  yet  he  never  again  could  be  so  lightly 
sure  of  his  own  judgment.  And  he  knew  it. 
With  a  long,  long  sigh,  he  rose.  He  called  to 
Smith;  and  when  the  latter  answered  him,  he 
said,  speaking  a  trifle  more  rapidly  than  his 
wont:  "  Say,  Uncle  Phil,  your  friend  Leroy 
has  more  sense  on  his  side  than  I  thought; 
will  you  get  me  off  in  time  to  catch  the  train 
for  Fairport,  if  I'll  give  you  my  parole  not  to 
oppose  Leroy,  but  let  them  settle  the  strike 
their  own  way? " 

Smith  did  not  hesitate.  "Why,  that's 
what  Harry  told  me  to  do,  keep  you  here  till 
you'd  give  your  word  not  to  fight  him.  He 
said  he  knowed  vou  was  white.  He  didn't  ex- 


120  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

pect  you'd  come  round  'fore  morning;  but  I 
don't  see  as  it  makes  any  difference.  I'll  let 
you  out;  and — say,  if  you'll  promise  not  to 
stop  Harry,  you  can  take  the  freight-train  to 
Fairport.  I'll  put  you  'board." 

"  And  we'll  talk  about  Hughey  on  the 
way,"  resolved  West. 

The  rougher  shook  his  head,  while  he 
jammed  the  tobacco  into  his  pipe  with  his 
thumb.  "  Queerest  thing  I  ever  did  see.  And 
West  was  as  smooth  as  you'd  want.  How'd 
Harry  fix  him?" 

Thompson,  to  whom  he  spoke,  wagged  his 
head  first  at  him,  next  at  the  carpenter.  "  I 
don't  know  any  mor'n  you  do.  Harry  asked 
me  to  drive  the  hack.  And  I  drove  it.  He 
got  in  like  a  lamb.  They  may  have  mixed  a 
bit  inside;  but  he  got  out  like  a  lamb,  when 
we  got  there.  Then  I  had  orders  to  drive  off 
and  get  to  Fairport  in  time  for  the  meeting.  I 
did  it,  too." 

"  All  I  know,"  said  the  carpenter,  rubbing 
his  chin,  "  is  that  Bob  and  I  were  to  watch  at 
the  house  and  not  let  him  git  out;  and  when 
Smith  gave  the  word,  we  were  to  cut  for  Fair- 
port.  He  didn't  do  a  thing.  And  Smith  gave 


THE  MOMENT  OF  CLEAR  VISION    121 

us  the  word;  and  we  took  the  cars  for  the 
depot  and  came  on  to  Fairport  for  the  meet 
ing;  and  everything  went  like  it  had  been 
greased." 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  steel  man,  lighting 
his  pipe  and  puffing  thoughtfully.  "  And  all 
I  know,  it  'twas  West  I  reckoned  would  get 
there;  and  he  was  so  much  smarter  than 
Harry;  and  yet  Henry's  got  onto  it  with  both 
feet." 

"  Maybe  another  time,  you  won't  be  blam 
ing  Harry  so  much  for  not  being  fiery," 
Thompson  observed,  a  second  later — the  in 
terval  having  been  filled  with  smoke  and  med 
itation — "  and  you  won't  sock  at  him  that  he's 
so  blamed  law  and  orderly!  " 

"  We  won't,"  said  the  rougher,  "  and 
what's  more,  if  Harry  says  Law  and  Order, 
Law  and  Order  it's  going  to  be,  if  we  have  to 
bust  all  the  other  fellers'  heads!  " 


JOHNNY'S  JOB 


JOHNNY'S   JOB 

THE  day  was  so  warm  that  the  men  at  the 
steel-works  were  all  mopping  their 
brows  with  the  back  of  their  hands.  Never 
theless  the  furnaces  were  flaming  and  the  great 
red  and  black  iron  sheds  were  penetrated  with 
the  incessant  pounding  roar  of  the  rolls. 

Johnny  Burke,  the  new  heater's-helper,  cast 
a  keen  glance  out  of  his  long-lashed  Irish  gray 
eyes  at  Larsen,  the  heater.  The  tall  Swede's 
face  was  flushed  and  strange  of  expression;  he 
flung  his  tools  noisily  into  the  bosh.  Both  the 
drag-down  and  the  charger  glanced  askance  at 
him,  exchanging  opinions  in  pantomime ;  but 
Johnny  did  not  speak  to  either  of  them,  he 
walked  over  to  the  roller.  That  great  man 
was  tapping  the  rolls  with  his  tongs,  whistling 
softly. 

"  Say,"  said  Johnny  in  his  ear,  "  some 
thing's  the  matter  with  Larsen,  he  ain't  been 
round  to  reverse  the  furnace  for  half  an  hour. 
125 


126  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

I  reversed  it,  myself,  a  little  while  ago,  I  didn't 
like  to  before;  but  the  bridge  was  'most 
awash — all  melting!  " 

The  roller  nodded.  "  I  told  the  rougher 
the  next  piece  of  hard  iron  he  got  from  him 
to  send  it  back;  he  would  before  only  he's  a 
friend  of  Knute's.  "Well,  so'm  I  a  friend  of 
Knute's;  but  we  can't  have  the  turn  spoiled 
with  cracked  iron." 

"  Looks  like  he  had  a  jag  on  him,"  said 
Johnny,  in  a  dispassionate  way. 

"  That's  it,"  the  roller  returned  gloomily, 
"  he's  had  some  sort  of  trouble  with  his  wife. 
Jealous  /  guess;  and  he  was  drinking  yester 
day.  Never  knew  him  to  drink  before.  But 
these  sober  fellers  when  they  get  to  drinking, 
go  all  to  pieces.  It's  an  awful  pity.  Knute's 
a  pretty  good  feller.  Say,  do  you  think  you 
can  kinder  watch  the  furnace?  Go  right 
ahead,  he  won't  notice !  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  Johnny;  but  his  heart 
swelled  within  him.  "  I  had  a  heater's  job 
last." 

"How'dyouloseit?" 

"Strike.  We  lost  it;  and  they  didn't  take 
on  all  the  men.  There  was  a  lot  of  married 
men  wanted  to  get  back,  bad;  they  didn't 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  127 

want  to  move.  And  I  was  single  and  foot 
loose — so  I  skipped.  Well,  maybe  " — flush 
ing  with  his  effort  to  be  candid — "  maybe  they 
wouldn't  have  took  me  on  if  I'd  asked.  I 
didn't  ask." 

"  I  guess  you're  white,"  said  the  roller; 
"  well,  keep  your  eye  on  things!  " 

He  gazed  after  Johnny's  curly  black  head 
and  handsome  profile  with  a  new  interest,  but 
far  from  suspecting  that  he  had  heard  the  dis 
appointment  of  Johnny's  life.  To  be  sure 
Johnny  had  said  nothing  of  the  girl. 

Johnny  was  a  new  man,  taken  on  a  week 
ago,  on  Leroy's  recommendation.  Leroy  was 
an  old  friend  of  Knute  Larsen's.  Knute  was 
popular  in  the  works,  not  only  in  his  own  little 
realm,  the  eight-inch  mill,  where  the  heater 
has  almost  equal  powers  with  the  roller,  but 
in  the  other  mills  and  in  the  office.  To  the 
office  there  was  one  exception,  the  assistant 
superintendent.  He  was  a  young  man  who 
rated  his  own  knowledge  high.  During  the 
superintendent's  absence  he  was  in  charge; 
and  he  had  already  had  a  dispute  with  Knute 
about  the  "  scrap."  The  "  scrap  "  was  of  his 
own  adventurous  buying;  and,  naturally, 
when  the  turns  were  disappointing  he  blamed 


128  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

the  heaters,  blamed  the  rollers,  and  blamed 
Knute  Larsen  more  than  all. 

Knute,  however,  only  blamed  the  "  scrap;  " 
he  did  not  pass  his  superior's  bad  temper  on 
to  Johnny;  and  Johnny  was  grateful. 

He  respected  Larsen,  not  only  because  he 
was  a  remarkably  good  heater,  who  always 
sent  out  "  nice  soft  iron,"  but  because  he  was 
tall — Johnny,  himself,  being  very  short. 
Knute  had  soft  blue  eyes  and  a  yellow  beard. 
He  was  taciturn  but  cheerful  in  his  silent  way; 
and  liked  to  listen  to  other  men's  jokes,  smil 
ing  with  his  eyes.  The  last  man  one  would 
think,  to  jeopard  his  high  wages  by  drinking. 
"  A  married  man,  too,"  thought  Johnny  se 
verely,  "  if  I  ever  get  married  " — he  flushed 
and  his  eyes  sparkled;  and  he  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  absently  gazing  at  nothing,  while  his 
whole  life  seemed  to  drift  before  him. 

First  he  saw  himself  a  little  straightening 
boy,  barely  nine,  dizzy  with  the  glory  of  work 
ing  in  an  iron-mill  and  having  wages  of  his 
own  to  bring  home  to  his  mother,  every  fort 
night.  His  father  was  dead.  He  had  three 
sisters,  all  younger  than  he;  he  was  the  man  of 
the  family,  his  mother  always  called  him 
"  Mother's  man."  His  poor  mother!  even  af- 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  129 

ter  all  those  years  the  lump  climbed  into  John 
ny's  throat  as  he  remembered  how  the  three 
little  sisters  had  all  died  in  one  dreadful  week 
of  diphtheria,  and  how  he  stood  alone  by  his 
mother,  beside  the  last  and  smallest  little 
grave.  Somehow  the  shade  of  little  Rosy 
"  who  was  so  cute  "  was  most  vivid  to  him  of 
all;  and  his  mother's  grief  for  her  baby  was 
heartbreaking.  "  But  I've  got  you,  son,"  she 
sobbed,  "  mother's  little  man — O  Johnny,  be 
careful!" 

I  fear  Johnny  was  hardly  careful  in  the 
way  that  she  meant;  he  had  the  name  of 
"  the  recklessest  little  devil  in  the  works;" 
and  his  mother's  hair  would  have  turned  gray 
could  she  have  viewed  him  cheerily  dodging 
the  wriggling,  glowing  red  serpents  that  dove 
at  him  from  the  finishing  rolls.  But  he  was 
careful  of  his  mother;  he  learned  to  put  a 
stout  front  on  his  hardships,  to  keep  his  kicks 
and  cuffs  to  himself  and  hide  his  burns  and  get 
up  in  the  black  winter  mornings  without  call 
ing,  although  his  muscles  had  not  rested  from 
last  night's  ache;  and  he  would  make  faces 
for  the  pain,  while  he  dressed.  He  thought  of 
none  of  those  things  now ;  his  lips  were  work 
ing  and  he  brushed  the  wet  out  of  his  eyes  be- 


130  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

cause  he  remembered  how  happy  his  mother 
was  when  he  was  made  strand  boy,  happier 
than  she  had  been  since  the  little  girls  died. 
She  laughed,  she  laughed  out  loud !  "  Think 
of  you  only  thirteen  and  earning  most  as  much 
as  your  ma !  Oh,  if  your  pa  could  see  you  this 
day!  If  he  could  know  how  you've  been 
mother's  man  " — and  then  she  kissed  him  and 
sorely  scared  him  by  crying  bitterly.  Was  it, 
as  she  said,  for  the  joy  and  for  remembering 
how  proud  his  father  had  always  been  of  his 
only  son,  or  was  it  because  she  knew  she  had 
the  sickness  on  her?  "  I'm  glad  I  got  the  raise 
that  week,"  muttered  Johnny,  his  eyes  dim 
ming.  Next  week,  he  had  no  mother  to  be 
glad  for  him.  He  went  to  live  with  his  aunt. 
She  was  sorry  for  the  lad,  who  made  no  com 
plaints  and  only  cried  at  night  for  his  mother, 
but  she  had  married  a  widower  with  six  small 
children,  each  one,  she  was  accustomed  to  say, 
bad  in  a  different  way  from  the  others,  so  she 
had  scant  leisure  for  "  mothering  "  Johnny. 
At  fifteen  Johnny  felt  himself  a  man;  and 
not  a  youngster  in  the  works  got  so  many  cuffs 
and  oaths  from  the  roughers  whose  tongs  he 
was  using  the  minute  their  backs  were  turned. 
Plenty  of  kindness  the  roughers  gave  him,  be- 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  131 

tween  deserved  reproofs  for  meddling;  and 
he  picked  up  ambition  and  rude  notions  of 
honor  and  a  reverence  for  the  Amalgamated 
Association.  The  Lodge  of  the  Association 
and  the  Lodge  of  the  Knights  of  Pythias  gave 
Johnny  most  of  his  education,  both  moral  and 
intellectual.  Never  did  either  association  or 
order  have  a  catechumen  who  listened  more 
eagerly  to  teachings  of  the  fraternal  duties  of 
brothers  in  the  lodge. 

"  It's  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the 
world,"  mused  Johnny  often,  during  the  first 
years  of  his  membership.  "  Well,  I  guess 
there's  one  thing  that  beats  'em  all,"  he 
thought  to-day,  "  beats  even  the  knights." 
And  Johnny  sighed.  For  that  one  thing  was 
love.  When  Johnny  was  twenty-three,  he  fell 
in  love.  It  was  soon  after  he  got  his  job  as 
heater;  and  a  light  heart  is  easy  to  move. 
She  was  a  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  shop ;  our  Eng 
lish  cousins  would  call  it  a  haberdasher's. 
She  boarded  at  Mrs.  Heller's,  only  two  blocks 
away  from  Johnny's  aunt's  house,  a  clean, 
quiet  place,  very  respectable  and  not  expen 
sive.  Johnny  still  boarded  with  his  aunt.  He 
could  have  found  a  pleasanter  place  for  his 
money;  and  he  didn't  enjoy  the  nightly  com- 


132  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

panionship  of  his  youngest  cousin,  known  in 
the  family  circle  as  "  Kicker ;  "  but  no  one 
else  would  sleep  with  the  child,  and  his  aunt 
needed  the  board  money;  hence  Johnny 
stayed  and  paid  it,  scrupulously  in  advance. 
He  furnished  his  bare  little  room,  making  it 
so  comfortable  that  his  aunt  always  gave  it  to 
her  mother-in-law  when  she  visited  them, 
while  Johnny  camped  elsewhere — with  Kick 
er.  The  girl,  Miss  Dora  Glenn  (Johnny  knew 
her  name  before  he  knew  her),  rode  a  bicycle. 
Johnny  also  rode  a  bicycle ;  and  almost  daily, 
returning  from  his  work,  he  met  Miss  Glenn 
returning  from  hers.  He  admired  her  riding; 
then  he  admired  her.  One  day,  his  heart 
curdled  beholding  a  desperate  "  object- 
struck  "  beginner,  a  man  of  herculean  frame, 
charge  down  on  a  baby  carriage,  and  Miss 
Glenn  pedal  swiftly  in  between  the  doomed  in 
fant  and  the  human  catapult.  Johnny  scorch 
ing  down  to  her,  arrived  in  time  to  see  the 
collision  and  to  hear  the  crash.  She  was  not 
hurt — the  man  had  toppled  over  at  a  touch; 
one  can  scarcely  say  that  he  lost  his  balance, 
he  having  so  little  balance  to  lose — but  her 
wheel  was  broken.  Johnny  mended  it ;  after 
he  had  given  the  unhappy  beginner  his  opin- 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  133 

ion  of  a  man  that  couldn't  steer,  coming  out 
on  the  street.  "  You  best  walk  home,'7  says 
Johnny  sternly;  "  and  be  thankful  you  ain't 
a  murderer;  you  ain't  safe  on  a  wheel!  " 

The  giant  limped  meekly  away,  pushing  his 
unharmed  wheel;  while  Johnny  addressed 
himself  to  repairs,  assisted  by  Miss  Glenn. 
She  had  taken  off  her  gloves.  Once  her  hand 
touched  his.  It  was  a  very  white  hand  and  felt 
cool  and  lovely  smooth;  and  somehow,  al 
though  it  was  so  different,  Johnny's  mem 
ory  flashed  back  to  the  touch  of  his  mother's 
hand  on  his  cheek.  "  Ma'd  like  her,"  he 
thought.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  tell  ma  about 
her." 

He  noticed  that  she  did  not  talk  like  the 
Pennsylvania  girls;  and  long  afterward,  the 
rich,  leisurely  cadences  of  her  voice  lived  on 
his  ear.  He  always  thought  of  her  with  a  re 
flection  of  the  tingling  throb  his  heart  gave 
him,  as  she  flew  past,  straight  into  the  path  of 
that  mountain  of  a  man. 

"  Knew  he'd  bowl  her  over,  but  bound  to 
save  the  baby!  "  thought  Johnny  enthusias 
tically.  "  Oh,  ain't  she  got  sand!  And  she's 
a  perfect  lady,  too." 

After  this  incident,  whenever  they  met  she 


134  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

smiled  and  Johnny  took  off  his  cap.  The 
second  week  he  ventured  to  observe  the  road 
was  bad  for  wheeling,  or  it  was  a  warm  day, 
merely  in  passing.  He  thought  about  her  a 
great  deal;  and  he  thought  more  about  his 
mother  and  his  father  than  he  had  in  a  long 
time.  He  consulted  a  carpenter  of  his  ac 
quaintance  in  regard  to  the  price  of  houses. 
At  the  lodge  of  the  association,  during  the  so 
cial  half  hour  after  the  business  session,  he 
made  one  of  the  most  vigorous  speeches  ever 
there  made,  on  the  subject  of  steel  men  wast 
ing  their  wages  in  riotous  good  times.  As 
Johnny,  while  never  known  to  be  visibly  un 
der  the  influence  of  that  which  biteth  like  a 
serpent  and  stingeth  like  an  adder,  had  prided 
himself  on  the  hardness  of  his  head  rather 
than  on  keeping  out  of  temptation,  and,  in 
deed,  had  been  nicknamed  "  the  tank "  by 
less  capable  and  envious  drinkers,  this  auster 
ity  drew  much  talk.  Johnny,  himself,  felt 
that  he  had  burned  his  festive  bridges  behind 
him. 

The  following  week  he  had  two  photographs 
taken  (in  his  uniform  as  a  Knight  of  Pythias, 
his  hand  on  his  sword  hilt).  Saturday  night 
he  put  the  best  two  of  the  dozen  in  his  pocket 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  135 

and  after  an  hour  of  scrubbing  and  dressing, 
took  his  way  to  the  Hellers. 

It  was  a  June  night ;  and  Miss  Glenn  might 
be  sitting  out  on  the  piazza  with  the  family. 
So  in  truth  it  fell  out.  Miss  Glenn  was  rock 
ing  beside  Mrs.  Heller. 

They  both  rose  to  greet  him.  He  had  never 
seen  her  except  on  her  wheel  or  beside  it.  Her 
trailing  shimmering  black  skirt  made  her  look 
very  tall;  and  there  was  a  dainty  air  about 
her  pink  shirt-waist  and  snowy  lawn  tie. 
"  She's  an  elegant  appearing  lady!  "  thought 
Johnny,  making  his  best  bow  to  the  accom 
paniment  of  Mrs.  Heller's  introduction. 

"  So  you  ain't  married  yet? "  says  Mrs. 
Heller,  by  way  of  setting  everyone  at  ease. 

"  No,  ma'am;  but  I'm  thinking  of  it,"  says 
Johnny,  forcing  his  eyes  up  to  Miss  Glenn's 
face  and  turning  scarlet.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  almost  made  her  an  offer  of  his 
hand.  He  cleared  his  husky  voice  and 
plunged  ahead.  "  I'm  getting  six  and  seven 
dollars  a  day ;  and  I  hope  to  make  more  when 
I  get  used  to  heating.  I've  got  a  hundred  and 
twenty-two  dollars  in  the  bank.  I  don't  think 
a  man  has  got  any  right  to  marry  unless  he 
can  give  his  wife  a  house  of  their  own." 


136  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

If  his  voice  would  not  roll  up  like  a  ball  in 
his  throat  he  could  say  more,  a  great  deal  more ; 
but  how  could  he  talk  when  he  had  to  keep 
swallowing?  He  essayed  a  smile — at  Mrs. 
Heller;  and  he  felt  the  drops  rolling  down  his 
neck  and  wilting  his  beautiful  white  collar. 

"  That's  awful  good  wages,"  said  Mrs.  Hel 
ler  cordially. 

"I  should  say!"  Miss  Glenn  agreed. 
Again  to-day  he  felt  the  glow  of  her  bright 
dark  eyes  on  him ;  and  his  heart  bounded. 

"  You  must  be  high  up,  Johnny,"  said  Mrs. 
Heller;  "  rougher  or  heater — you'd  never  get 
that  much,  finishing." 

"  Sure,"  said  Johnny  modestly,  "  I'm 
heater  for  the  twelve-inch " 

"My!  but  you're  young  to  be  a  heater, 
Johnny!  "Wasn't  you  scared  first  day  you 
went  on?  You  know  Heller  was  a  heater,  and 
he  told  me  he  was  dreadful  scared  the  first 
week  lest  he'd  burn  the  breast  out  of  the  fur 
nace  or  some  sech  awful  thing." 

"  Well,  I  was  too,"  admitted  Johnny.  "  I 
guess  I  ain't  all  over  being  scared,  yet;  you 
see  there  are  so  many  bad  things  you  can  do, 
to  the  furnace  or  the  iron." 

"That's  BO,"  the  heater's  widow  assented, 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  137 

shaking  her  head;  "  you're  jest  like  your  pa, 
Johnny,  so  conscientious." 

Johnny,  in  an  access  of  gratitude,  pulled 
out  the  photographs  and  asked  her  if  she  could 
give  them  house-room.  He  remembered  with 
a  thrill  how  Miss  Glenn's  graceful  brown  head 
looked,  bent  over  the  pictures.  He  remem 
bered  how  he  lost  his  constraint  and  waxed 
fluent  explaining  the  objects  of  the  Knights  of 
Pythias.  But  he  could  not  muster  daring 
enough  to  ask  her  to  accept  one  of  the  pictures. 
Instead  out  of  his  grateful  heart,  he  asked 
Mrs.  Heller,  her  daughter,  and  her  little  son 
(too  young  to  be  left  at  home)  and  Miss  Glenn 
to  go  driving  Sunday  afternoon;  and  he  took 
them  in  a  surrey  with  two  handsome  horses 
that  the  clerk  of  the  livery  stable  told  him  were 
never  allowed  to  go  without  a  stable  driver; 
but  he  said  that  for  a  dollar  extra  he,  Johnny, 
being  known  to  be  a  careful  man,  should  be 
given  the  fiery  steeds.  Johnny  did  not  find 
them  fiery ;  but  he  had  the  pleasure  of  passing 
over  the  clerk's  cautions  to  Mrs.  Heller;  and 
she  sat  on  the  back  seat  with  her  children, 
clasping  them  in  her  arms  and  calling 
"  whoa!  "  loudly  every  time  one  of  the  horses 
lashed  a  fly;  and  Miss  Dora  was  on  the  front 


138  THE  HEART  OP  TOIL 

seat  with  him;  and  the  gates  of  paradise 
swung  open. 

But  the  days  went  by  without  his  adventur 
ing  any  further  confusion.  Twice  he  rode  in 
the  park  with  her,  once  on  Saturday  evening, 
once  on  Sunday  afternoon.  He  told  her  of  his 
parents,  of  his  hopes,  of  his  ambitions,  he  told 
her  of  everything  but  his  love;  and  that  was 
so  timid,  so  worshipful  that  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  speech.  She  told  him  that  she  was 
an  orphan  with  one  sister  who  was  married  and 
always  begging  her  to  try  for  employment  in 
the  town  where  she  lived.  "  Sometimes  I 
think  I  will,"  she  said.  "  I  was  born  West  and 
I  love  it  there ;  I  get  homesick  for  the  Missis 
sippi  River.  I  hate  the  big  cities — like  this. 
I  love  a  town  where  there  are  trees  on  the 
streets  and  all  the  folks  have  yards  to  their 
houses.  And  I  love  to  see  the  river." 

"  Yes,  a  river's  a  great  thing,"  said  Johnny. 
"  I  don't  know  when  I  learned  to  swim,  I  was 
so  little.  Once  we  lived  right  on  the  river  and 
my  mother  was  so  'fraid  I'd  get  drownded. 
But  she  wasn't  after  she  saw  me  swim." 

"  Mrs.  Heller  says  you  saved  a  little  boy 
from  drowning,  once." 

"  'Shaw,  that  was  nothing,  the  kid  fell  in  the 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  139 

cistern  and  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  tread  water.'' 
Johnny  was  tempted  to  tell  of  the  man  that  he 
had  saved  in  the  river;  but  he  thought  that 
would  look  like  bragging  and  held  his  peace. 

She  was  riding,  slowly,  her  eyes  on  the  grass- 
plots  that  swam  before  them  as  they  passed. 
Her  brown  hair  took  sunnier  glints  in  the  twi 
light  glow,  the  delicate  oval  of  her  cheek  was 
flushed.  She  was  pretty,  as  thousands  of 
American  girls  are  pretty,  but  in  that  light, 
with  the  gentle  thought  in  her  eyes,  she  looked 
an  angel  to  her  lover.  He  caught  his  breath. 
"  If  I  get  married,  my  wife  shall  live  where 
she  pleases  if  I  can  only  get  good  work,"  said 
he,  frowning  and  grasping  the  handle-bar  with 
a  grip  of  steel. 

He  did  not  see  her  face  or  he  would  have 
seen  that  she  grew  red;  but  she  laughed  and 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  road  to 
scorch!  " 

Johnny  could  not  understand  whether  she 
wanted  to  put  him  off;  but  he  was  too  shy  to 
persist.  He  bent  over  his  handle-bar. 

The  next  day  the  long-threatening  strike  be 
gan.  Johnny  had  no  job;  no  right,  he 
thought,  to  speak.  "  I'll  wait  until  we  win 
and  I'm  back,"  he  said.  And  they  did  not 


140  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

win.  That  was  a  hard  month  to  Johnny,  a 
hard  decision  to  make,  to  relinquish  his  fair 
hopes  and  go  on  the  road  for  a  job.  But, 
swearing  at  his  luck,  Johnny  chose  a  heavy 
heart  instead  of  a  loaded  conscience ;  and  went 
dismally  to  Mrs.  Heller  to  tell  them  that  he 
must  go.  "  My  sakes  alive !  "  cried  Mrs.  Hel 
ler,  waving  her  pudgy  hands  in  the  air, 
"  didn't  you  know  it?  Miss  Glenn's  -gone. 
Her  sister's  been  writing  and  writing;  and 
she  decided  yesterday  she'd  go.  She  left  her 
good-by  for  you ;  and  hoped  if  you  was  ever  in 
Fairport,  la.,  you'd  come  to  see  her." 

Johnny's  cheeks  were  a  kind  of  blue  white. 
His  teeth  came  together  with  a  click.  His  nos 
trils  widened.  Mrs.  Heller  turned  away  from 
his  miserable  eyes. 

"  I — I  give  her  one  of  your  photographs 
afore  she  went,  Johnny,"  said  she;  "  you  don't 
mind." 

Johnny  laughed.  "  I  guess  I  don't.  I 
guess  you're  an  awful  good  friend  of  mine. 
Good-by,  Mrs.  Heller,  a  friend  of  mine  knows 
a  Mr.  Leroy  in  Fairport.  He's  president  of 
the  Labor  Council;  and  I'll  get  a  letter  to 
him.  There's  a  new  steel  works  in  Fairport  or 
just  'cross  the  river.  I'm  going  to  try  for  a 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  141 

job  there.  What — what's  Miss  Dora's  ad 
dress  V 

But  Miss  Dora  had  left  no  address.  "  May- 
be's  a  little  town;  and  I  don't  need  it,"  said 
Johnny  stoutly.  He  took  the  night  train  for 
the  West,  leaving  consolation  gifts  for  his 
weeping  aunt  and  the  cousins,  and  carrying 
away  a  very  scanty  remainder  of  his  savings. 
"  Oh,  I'll  get  along,"  he  said  to  the  boys  at  the 
train;  and  he  would  not  borrow  and  went 
away  smiling;  and  nobody  saw  the  puckered 
face  bent  over  the  back  of  the  car-seat  as  the 
flaming  chimneys  fell  behind.  "  Think  of 
them  boys,  who  are  all  stone-broke  and  just 
got  their  jobs  back,  wanting  to  lend  me 
money,"  he  gurgled  to  the  roar  of  the  train. 
"  I'll  never  find  no  such  friends  anywhere 
else!" 

He  was  desperately  lonely  the  first  week  in 
Fairport.  He  would  have  been  more  lonely 
but  for  Harry  Leroy,  who  asked  him  once  to 
supper  at  his  own  house  and  gave  him  a  good 
word  with  Knute  Larsen  and  the  superintend 
ent  of  the  Edgewater  Steel  Works,  and  lent 
him  papers  to  read. 

He  walked  the  streets  and  rode  on  the  street- 
railways  and  bought  papers  of  pins  or  thread 


142  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

or  needles  or  a  cake  of  soap  in  every  dry-goods 
shop  in  the  city  of  Fairport ;  but  not  once  did 
he  see  the  face  that  haunted  his  heart. 

Not  once  until  this  morning;  and  because 
of  this  morning,  because  of  an  eyeblink  of  a 
face  at  a  car- window  whirling  by — just  as  he 
turned  to  go  his  way  to  the  works — he  stood 
now  viewing  the  panorama  of  his  life,  and 
sure  that  for  this  all  had  been  worth  the  liv 
ing. 

He  roused  himself  to  attend  to  the  drafts  of 
the  furnace.  Knute  was  lurching  about  in  a 
heavy-gaited  way  smiling  feebly  did  anyone 
speak  to  him;  and  making  futile  attempts  to 
focus  his  glassy  eyeballs  on  the  speaker. 

"  You  go  to  the  window  and  get  a  breath  of 
air,"  said  Johnny.  "  I'll  talk  to  the  boss." 

"  Where's  Larsen? "  said  the  assistant  su 
perintendent. 

"  He's  'most  sick  to-day;  it's  so  hot." 

"  It's  infernal  weather,"  grumbled  the 
young  man;  but  he  looked  after  Knute's 
swaying  back  in  a  way  that  Johnny  did  not 
like. 

A  few  minutes  later  Johnny,  having  gone 
to  the  window  himself  for  a  gasp  of  relief  from 
the  dead  heat  of  the  mill,  heard  the  assistant 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  143 

and  the  time-keeper  talking.  They  were  in 
the  roadway  below  and  did  not  see  him. 

"  I  guess  there  is,"  the  time-keeper  was  say 
ing  in  answer  to  some  question.  "  I  noticed 
he  was  wrong  when  I  was  in  there,  taking 
time;  he  couldn't  hardly  answer  me;  but  it 
may  be  the  heat." 

"  Doesn't  look  like  it,"  said  the  assistant; 
"  if  he  is  drunk,  he'll  go,  that's  all.  It's  too 
cursed  risky!  Johnny  Burke  used  to  be  a 
heater  and  he  can  take  the  place.  I'm  not  go 
ing  to  have  a  mess  at  the  eight-inch  to  report 
to  the  old  man,  to-morrow."  They  passed  on; 
and  Johnny  went  back  to  the  furnace  think 
ing,  "  I'll  give  Knute  a  hint;  he  ain't  show 
ing  good  sense." 

But  there  was  Knute,  prone  on  the  sand- 
heap  beside  the  furnace,  in  the  scorching  heat, 
his  purple  face  full  in  the  glow.  Johnny  did 
not  look  at  his  face.  He  looked,  his  eyes  hard 
ening,  at  the  photograph  slipping  out  of  the 
drunken  hand.  It  was  a  woman's  face;  and 
the  face  was  Dora  Glenn's.  Johnny  set  his 
teeth  and  strode  to  the  window.  There  was  a 
throbbing  in  the  back  of  his  head ;  he  couldn't 
breathe. 

"  Trouble  with  his  wife !  "    And  Dora  was 


144:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

his  wife.  They  hadn't  been  married  a  month; 
yet  he  was  quarrelling  with  her  and  getting 
drunk.  He  felt  no  anger  against  the  girl. 
"  She  didn't  promise  me  nothing,"  he  groaned, 
"  she  ain't  to  blame  for  me  being  a  fool. — Oh 
God !  I  didn't  have  a  look  from  her  that  I  got 
the  right  to  remember  against  her."  It  was  a 
forlorn  comfort  that  she  wasn't  to  blame.  She 
wasn't  to  blame  with  that  brute,  either.  He 
knew  that.  A  sickening  rage  at  the  man  who 
could  treat  her  so  turned  him  dizzy.  "  I'll  not 
lift  a  hand  for  him  " — that  was  his  first  con 
scious  thought — "  I  won't  scab  any  man's  job; 
but  I  am  not  going  to  try  to  save  his  for  him, 
he  can  take  his  chances  by !  " 

Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  had  a  vision 
of  the  young  boss  at  the  straightening  beds. 
"  I  ain't  going  to  look  round,"  said  Johnny, 
doggedly.  Therefore  he  stared  out  of  the  win 
dow  in  time  to  see  Harry  Leroy  on  his  way  to 
the  office  with  a  message  about  the  Cochrane 
Company's  steel.  Leroy  sent  him  a  friendly 
smile  and  a  hail;  "  Don't  forget  you  take 
supper  with  me,  Saturday.  We'll  have 
chicken!  " 

Johnny's  head  sank.  He  waited  a  second 
longer.  "Oh  Lord,  I  got  to  do  it,"  he 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  14.5 

groaned.  "  I  couldn't  look  him  in  the  face  if 
I  didn't.  Knute's  a  brother  knight,  too!  " 

With  that  he  rushed  off  to  Knute.  The 
assistant  superintendent  was  walking  toward 
him  from  the  other  direction.  But  Johnny 
reached  the  insensible  man  first,  had  the 
whiskey  flask  out  and  was  bathing  the  purple 
face,  at  the  same  instant  calling  loudly  on  Bill 
the  drag-down  and  George  the  charger. 

"  Get  him  to  the  faucet,  get  some  ice 
water!  "  roared  Johnny  above  the  din;  "  he's 
prostrated  by  the  heat !  Tell  the  boss,  some  of 
you  boys!  " 

"  Whiskey  sunstroke  I  guess,"  said  the  su 
perintendent,  sniffing. 

"  I  was  bathing  him  with  it,"  Johnny  ex 
plained  promptly;  "  he  was  hot  and  dry's 
aboard!" 

"  That's  it,"  agreed  the  roller,  bustling  up, 
"  he  complained  of  his  head  to  me,  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  And  he  said  he  couldn't  sweat  a  mite  and 
he  felt  all  burning  up!  "  chimed  in  George; 
while  Bill  proffered  testimony  in  the  same 
strain.  The  united  stress  of  opinion  was  too 
much  for  the  assistant  superintendent's  nerve ; 
after  all,  it  might  be  sunstroke,  anyhow  the 
10 


146  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

men  would  swear  that  it  was;  and  there  was 
the  old  man  to  consider;  he  watched  them 
drenching  Knute  with  ice-water;  and  all  he 
said  was,  "  He's  coming  round  all  right.  He 
better  go  home,"  and  so  walked  away. 

But  Knute  had  his  own  mind  about  going 
home.  He  opened  his  eyes,  into  which  the 
light  was  creeping,  and  stared  at  Johnny. 
"  Did  I  lose  my  job?  "  said  he. 

"  No,  you're  all  right,"  said  Johnny. 

"  You  boys  kept  it  for  me  ?  It  vas  'bout  my 
vife.  See's  good  vomans,  but  see's  gone  back 
on  me.  See  ?  I  guess  I  kill  myself." 

"  Oh,  rats !  "  said  Johnny.  "  Here,  get  up ; 
the  boss  thinks  it  sunstroke  and  you  can  go 
home." 

"  No,  I  don't  go  home,"  said  Knute,  sitting 
Tip,  "  the  old  mans,  fore  he  vent,  said  to  try  to 
git  sixty  t'ousand  of  half -inch  round — I  git  it, 
dis  turn.  Dot's  vy  I  drink — to  make  me 
strong,  'cause  my  head  is  wrong  dis  hot  wed- 
der." 

Despite  the  roller's  protestations  he  stag 
gered  to  his  feet.  "  Yonny  vill  help  me/'  he 
said,  "  I  git  along." 

As  for  Johnny,  he  laid  every  nerve  to  work 
to  guard  Larsen,  and  to  make  his  estimate  of 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  147 

the  turn  good.  He  would  not  think;  he  would 
not  feel;  he  had  the  billets  to  watch  and  the 
furnace.  Sixty  thousand  was  a  big  turn.  But 
when  the  weight  was  posted  on  the  board,  Bill 
and  George  came  to  slap  him  on  the  back  as 
well  as  Larsen;  and  Larsen's  eyes  brightened. 
He  was  quite  sober,  now.  "  I'm  mooch 
obliged  to  you  boys/7  he  said,  "  dot's  a  good 
turn.  Yonny  is  a  good  heater.  Good-by." 

He  shook  hands  with  the  roller  and  the 
finisher,  with  the  roughers  and  his  own  helpers. 
Then,  he  took  out  his  knife  and  handed  it  to 
one  of  the  straightening  boys,  saying,  "  You 
got  dat  knife,  Hughey,  I  gif  him  to  you." 

Hughey  grinned;  but  the  men  exchanged 
uneasy  glances  and  talked  to  each  other,  as 
Knute  walked  off  to  his  locker  for  his  coat. 
They  would  have  drafted  Johnny  into  the 
conversation,  but  he  had  slipped  outside. 
"  It's  none  of  my  business  if  he  does  try  to  kill 
himself,  best  thing  for  her,  I  guess."  In  this 
fashion  he  muttered  to  himself,  nevertheless 
not  mending  his  pace,  going  more  slowly,  in 
fact,  with  each  word.  "  Supposing  he  is  a 
brother  knight — it's  none  of  my  business." 
He  stood  still.  "The  way  those  Pittsburg 
knights  stood  by  me  ain't  got  nothing  to  do 


148  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

with  it!  "    He  turned  on  his  heel.     "  D 

it!  "    He  walked  back  to  the  works. 

Little  groups  of  the  men  were  all  along  the 
road,  and  in  the  second  group  he  saw  George 
the  charger  lending  a  sympathetic  arm  to 
Knute,  Bill  and  the  roller  walking  on  the  other 
side.  The  roller's  brow  cleared  at  sight  of 
Johnny;  he  lagged  behind  for  a  moment's 
confidence.  "  We're  going  to  put  Knute  on 
the  car  that  goes  to  his  house ;  I  guess  he'll  be 
all  right,  then,  don't  you?  " 

"  I  guess  you  and  I  best  get  on  the  car  with 
him,  on  the  sly.  Maybe  he  didn't  mean  noth 
ing  by  his  talk,  but  Swedes  kill  themselves  aw 
ful  easy." 

"  That's  right,"  sighed  the  roller.  "  Well, 
my  wife  is  sure  there's  been  an  accident  if  I'm 
ten  minutes  behind  time,  but  I'll  go  with  you; 
we'll  let  Georgy  and  Bill  go  home." 

George  and  Bill  accordingly  put  Knute  on 
the  car,  after  Johnny  and  the  roller  had 
nodded  good-by,  and  Knute  had  insisted  on 
shaking  hands  over  again,  not  saying  anything 
except,  "  I  vas  much  obliged,"  to  each.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  getting  a  rear  position  on 
the  strap ;  and  Knute,  in  front,  did  not  suspect 
his  two  comrades'  presence.  He  sat  with  his 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  149 

eyes  on  the  brick  pavements  and  the  maple 
trees,  and  the  houses  half -hidden  by  the  foli 
age.  "  It's  singular,"  mused  the  roller,  with 
the  artless  confidence  of  the  average  street-car 
traveller  that  his  remarks  will  reach  no  other 
ear  than  that  into  which  they  are  poured,  "  it's 
singular  the  trouble  women  make  the  most 
sensible  men.  Now  till  just  lately,  since  he's 
been  married,  I'd  have  bet  money  on  Knute's 
sense.  But  he's  crazy  over  this  girl.  She  is 
pretty;  but  she's  kinder  giddy,  I  guess,  too, 
nothing  wrong,  just  thoughtless.  I  saw  her 
once  out  riding  on  her  wheel  and  a  floor 
walker  down  at  Kingman's  was  riding  with 
her,  a  pretty  little  feller  all  dressed  up  in  plaid 
stockings.  Now  Knute's  not  pretty.  I  guess 
he  didn't  like  it.  He  fairly  worshipped  her, 
though.  You  ought  to  see  the  house  he 
bought !  He  gave  her  a  gold  watch  and  chain 
— say,  what's  he  doing  now?  Can  you  see?  " 

Johnny  reported;  "  He's  writing  on  a  leaf 
of  his  memorandum-book.  He's  torn  it  out 
and  folded  it  up;  and  now,  he's  putting  it  into 
an  envelope  that's  addressed  already — in 
ink." 

"  That  don't  look  right  a  little  bit." 
Johnny  shook  his  head.    It  was  queer,  but 


150  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

a  reluctant  compassion  was  wrestling  with  the 
jealous  hatred  that  clawed  at  his  heart.  Knute 
loved  her,  too.  He  had  meant  to  give  her  a 
gold  watch  and  chain  for  a  wedding  gift;  but 
Knute  had  given  it  to  her,  instead.  "  He's 
getting  up!  "  said  the  roller. 

"  S'posing  he  sees  us,  coming  out!  "  said 
Johnny.  But  Larsen  left  the  car  by  the  other 
door.  They  followed  him  to  the  street,  and 
kept  him  in  sight  from  a  safe  distance.  He 
went  into  the  post-office,  came  out  directly, 
walked  a  short  block  and  signalled  a  bridge 
car.  The  bridge  cars  cross  the  Mississippi  to 
Fairport. 

"  My  wife  will  have  a  fit,"  moaned  the 
roller,  "  but  we've  got  to  see  this  thing 
through.  Ketch  on,  Johnny,  and  don't  let 
him  see  you!  " 

They  stood  on  the  rear  platform;  and,  as 
before,  Larsen  was  sitting  well  in  front,  where 
they  could  only  see  the  back  of  his  head.  He 
sat  motionless,  his  gaze  on  the  water,  which 
was  now  kindling  myriad  opalescent  hues  un 
der  the  golden  torch  in  the  west.  A  proces- 
gion  of  wagons,  carriages,  phaetons,  and  last 
of  all,  one  smart  victoria  with  jingling  chains 
on  the  horses'  harness  and  a  beautiful,  dark- 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  151 

haired  woman  sitting  behind  the  coachman 
(who  plainly  suffered  in  his  livery)  drifted  past 
them  on  the  opposite  roadway.  "  She  looks  a 
little  like  Knute's  wife,"  said  the  roller;  "  did 
you  see  Knute's  shoulders  jump?  Say,  Pm 
getting  nervous." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Johnny;  "  but  we're  most 
across — he's  up !  " 

He  was  up,  reaching  for  the  cord,  stopping 
the  car.  He  turned  and  passed  them.  "  He'll 
wonder  what  we're  doing  here,"  the  roller 
whispered,  leaning  on  Johnny's  nimbler  wit. 
"  What  had  we  better  say?  You  answer!  " 

But  Knute's  eyes  turned,  once,  full  on  them, 
did  not  waver  nor  lighten;  he  went  by  with 
his  strained,  unseeing  gaze;  and  nothing  in 
the  grisly  chase  had  given  them  the  chill  of 
this  blind  passage.  Their  eyes  met.  "By 

,  he  means  to  do  it,"  the  roller  said,  under 

his  breath ;  and  Johnny  nodded,  rising.  They 
were  on  the  bridge  floor,  not  a  minute  behind 
the  Swede;  but  he  was  already  standing  at  the 
further  side  of  the  railing. 

"  Larsen,  stop  !  "  shouted  Johnny,  vaulting 
over  after  him. 

He  never  looked  back;  he  flung  his  arms 
above  his  head  and  sprang.  At  the  very  in- 


152  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

stant  of  motion  Johnny's  hands  grabbed  his 
flannel  shirt;  but  the  stuff  parted,  and  Johnny 
was  reeling  with  the  splash  in  his  ears.  The 
roller  clutched  him  to  save  him  from  a  fall. 
"  Get  a  boat!  "  cried  Johnny.  "  /  can  hold 
him— le'  go!  " 

He  had  sprung  after  Knute,  but  in  very 
different  shape,  circling  like  an  arrow,  his 
hands,  like  the  arrow-head,  protecting  his  body 
as  he  dived.  How  lucky  his  coat  was  on  his 
arm  instead  of  on  his  shoulders!  How  lucky 
he  had  untied  his  shoes  in  the  cars  on  the  sus 
picion  of  this  very  need;  they  were  kicked  off 
in  a  second!  Where  was  the  fellow's  head? 
There!  Look  at  him  thrashing  with  his  long 
arms!  How  his  eyes  bulged! 

"  Keep  still!  Til  save  you!  "  yelled  John 
ny;  and  all  the  while  his  arms  went  like  oars, 
and  each  magnificent  kick  of  his  steel-like  legs 
was  hurling  him  through  the  water. 

He  came  up  behind  Knute ;  but  even  as  his 
hand  was  outstretched  the  head  sank.  He 
dived  for  it,  and  it  rose  to  the  surface,  drip 
ping,  the  hair  flat  on  the  forehead,  the  face  no 
longer  a  man's,  only  a  mask  of  fear,  with  bared 
teeth,  and  painted  eyeballs. 

"Now  you're  all  right!"  called  Johnny, 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  153 

cheerfully.  "  I  got  you.  Quit  kicking,  or  I'll 
duck  you !  " 

It  is  said  that  suicides  are  easy  to  save,  hav 
ing  used  up  all  their  will-power  in  the  last 
desperate  act.  .Knute  hardly  struggled,  for 
which  one  may  give  the  reason  cited,  or  take 
Johnny's  praise  for  fact.  "  You're  acting 
bully !  "  cried  Johnny.  "  You  know  you 
don't  want  to  drown  me,  too !  " 

He  could  hear  voices  and  the  frantic  rattle 
and  splash  of  oars.  The  danger  went  to  his 
Irish  blood  like  whiskey.  "  I'm  all  right,"  he 
sang  out;  "  you  fellows  keep  the  stroke!  " 

"  For  God's  sake,  keep  up,  Johnny !  We're 
coming,  Johnny!  You  keep  up  a  minnit!" 
It  was  the  roller's  voice,  and  it  cracked  under 
a  sob.  Johnny  bawled  back:  "  Fm  all  right. 
He's  quiet  as  a  kitten — I'll  duck  you  if  you 
dast  to  stir!  " 

But  Knute  did  not  stir;  and  when  they  had 
pulled  him  into  the  boat,  he  lay  with  neither 
breath  nor  quiver,  and  Johnny  (towed  at  the 
stern  to  lighten  the  boat)  gave  animated 
orders  according  to  his  experience.  "  He's 
breathing  all  right,  but  tilt  his  head  and  get 
the  water  out  of  him — now  work  his  arms  and 
rub  him.  Get  his  flask  out  of  his  pocket  and 


154  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

give  him  a  taste — there,  I  told  you  he  was  all 
right!" 

"  He's  coming  to,"  bawled  the  roller. 
"  Say,  what  if  he  makes  a  break?  " 

"  He  won't,"  said  Johnny;  "  but  sit  on  his 
head  if  he  does." 

Knute,  however,  was  like  a  man  stunned, 
making  no  resistance,  and  meekly  consenting 
to  be  put  in  a  hack,  with  his  two  friends,  and 
driven  home. 

"  I  make  you  lots  of  trouble,  boys,"  he  mur 
mured  in  apology. 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  returned  the  roller,  se 
verely,  "  and  you  like  to  have  drownded  John 
ny!  I  couldn't  swim,  or  else  you'd  have 
drownded  me,  too.  Now,  what  I  want  to  know 

is:  Are  you  going  to  try  this  d trick 

again?" 

The  Swede  had  been  smiling  feebly,  but  at 
the  words  some  sinister  memory  burned  in  his 
melancholy  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  can't  tell.  I  got  so  much 
troubles." 

"  No  trouble's  so  bad  you  can't  bear  it  like 
a  man,"  said  Johnny.  He  felt  something  tug 
ging  at  his  heart,  something  that  hurt  it,  yet 
lifted  it.  He  had  never  felt  that  way  before; 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  155 

and  suddenly  he,  too,  remembered,  and  added, 
humbly,  "  especially  if  you  have  good 
friends." 

"  And  a  good  wife,"  added  the  roller  with 
increased  severity.  "  I've  no  doubt  she's  scared 
to  death  about  you  this  minute — and  so's  mine 
about  me.  I  bet  she's  been  to  the  grocery, 
ringing  up  the  Edgewater  to  know  if  there's 
been  an  accident,  or  Sam  Swift  has  been  hurt. 
Say,  what  was  that  letter  you  mailed " 

Knute  sat  up  with  a  spring.  "  Can't  dot 
man  drive  faster?  "  he  cried;  "  I  yust  remem 
ber  I  tole  my  vife " 

"  I  only  hope  she  hasn't  run  out  to  catch 
you  herself;  and  we  can't  find  her,"  was  the 
roller's  dismal  augury.  "  Poor  thing !  I 
guess  she's  'most  crazy." 

But  he  prodded  Johnny's  side  with  his  el 
bow  and  bestowed  on  him  a  furtive  smile,  im 
plying  that  he  secretly  regarded  Mrs.  Larsen's 
fright  with  satisfaction. 

Knute  sank  back  on  the  seat ;  and  the  roller 
eyed  his  troubled  countenance  and  nodded,  un 
til  his  good-nature  prompted  some  homely  con 
solation.  "  I  guess  you'll  understand  each 
other  better  after  this,  Knute.  It's  going  to 
come  out  all  right." 


156  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Johnny  sat  in  his  wet  clothes  and  shivered. 
The  night  was  turning  chill,  after  the  terrible 
day.  His  exhilaration,  which  was  no  more 
than  the  effervescence  of  peril,  was  all  gone, 
he  felt  cold  in  his  heart;  and  his  one  longing 
was  to  make  an  excuse  to  jump  out  of  the  hack 
and  run.  "  No,  you  don't,  Johnny  Burke/' 
he  kept  saying  to  himself,  "  get  a  brace  on 
you!  "  But  he  choked  and  went  white  when 
the  carriage  stopped.  He  opened  the  door 
and  sprang  out,  first.  He  was  aware  of  a 
pretty  cottage  and  of  red  geraniums,  and 
a  plank  walk — but  then,  he  staggered  and 
grew  faint,  for  it  was  her  face  flying  toward 
them. 

She  flung  herself  into  the  carriage  door. 
"  Tell  me  first,  I'll  tell  her,"  she  began  in  a 
tone  like  ice;  she  was  pale  but  she  was  not 
screaming  or  fainting,  except  that  she  gasped 
and  suddenly  broke  into  a  little  choking  laugh 
as  she  saw  Knute. 

"  Oh,  Knute,  how  could  you?  "  she  cried. 
"  Elly's  so  frightened,  she  went  to  the  police, 
herself,  to  beg  them  look  for  you;  she's  just 
come  back — Elly,  Knute's  all  right!  " 

The  other  woman,  who  looked  like  Dora, 
but  was  not  Dora,  the  woman  whose  picture  he 


JOHNNY'S  JOB  157 

had  seen,  had  passed  Johnny  and  was  sobbing 
in  Knute's  arms. 

"  You  get  him  into  the  house  and  get  off  his 
wet  clothes,  soon's  you  can,  ma'am,"  said  the 
roller,  who  rose  to  the  level  of  the  situation 
with  the  ripe  composure  of  a  ten  years  mar 
ried  man.  "  I'll  explain  to  Miss  Glenn  how 
you  come  to  have  a  husband  here,  instead  of 
in  the  Mississippi."  The  single  glimpse  John 
ny  had  of  the  faces  of  husband  and  wife  as 
she  drew  him  into  the  house,  assured  him  that 
whatever  the  trouble  between  them,  it  had 
shrivelled  out  of  knowledge  in  the  terror  and 
anguish  of  the  last  hour.  "  She  loves  him," 
Johnny  thought  reverently;  and  with  the 
thought  came  another  under  which  he  leaned 
quickly  against  the  side  of  the  porch.  "  He's 
weak  with  his  exertions,"  explained  the  roller, 
"  and  no  wonder.  Let  me  tell  you — 
Johnny  was  obliged  to  sit  down  while  the 
roller  depicted  the  scene  in  such  vivid  colors 
that  he  did  not  know  his  own  experience. 
"  Knute's  a  giant,  and  he  struggled  awfully 
— my — my  gracious!  my  heart  was  in  my 
mouth,  I  thought  he'd  pull  him  under;  but 
Johnny  was  calm  as  if  he  was  in  a  ball-room — 
look  here,  excuse  me,  I  haven't  introduced  him 


158  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

to  you;  I  am  rattled,  that's  a  fact.  Miss 
Glenn,  Mr.  Burke." 

"  I  know  Mr.  Burke  well,"  she  said,  "  he's 
a  friend  of  mine."  She  held  out  her  hand,  her 
beautiful  white  hand,  smiling.  But,  suddenly, 
her  lips  quivered  and  the  tears  rose  to  her  eyes. 
"  Oh,  I  haven't  thanked  you!  "  she  said,  "  I 
can't.  How  brave  you  are !  "  Dimly  Johnny 
realized  that  she  was  looking  at  him  as  she  had 
never  looked  at  him,  before. 

The  roller  sent  his  eyes  from  one  young  face 
to  the  other;  «md  a  smile  slowly  dawned  on  his 
features.  "  "Well,  Miss  Dora,"  3a!d  he,  pleas 
antly,  "  I  guess  I'll  be  going,  my  wife's  wait 
ing.  Don't  hurry,  Johnny."  And  he  walked 
away,  whistling. 

At  the  street  corner  he  cast  a  glance  behind. 
The  two  young  figures  were  still  standing, 
bathed  in  the  enchanted  glow  of  sunset,  and 
Johnny  was  still  holding  the  girl's  hand. 


THE  "SCAB 


THE    "SCAB" 

THE  train  was  rolling  its  huge  wheels  over 
the  Illinois  prairies,  not  so  swiftly  as  car- 
wheels  are  used  to  roll  over  that  level  stretch 
between  Joliet  and  Chicago ;  but  the  day  was 
the  third  of  July,  1894,  and  there  was  enough 
chance  that  there  had  been  tampering  with  the 
rails  to  excuse  caution.  It  was  so  warm  that 
most  of  the  car-windows  were  open ;  neverthe 
less  in  the  last  car  (not  a  Pullman)  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  sickly  pungency  of  apples  and 
orange  peel  and  the  indescribable  odor  of  cin 
ders.  Dust  was  everywhere ;  vibrating  in  the 
sunshine  that  changed  its  dingy  motes  into 
gold,  painting  the  window-ledges  gray,  and 
coating  the  red  plush  of  the  seats,  except  where 
two  commercial  travellers  had  fended  off  the 
warm  prickle  by  newspapers.  Flies  buzzed 
through  the  car,  and  one  especial  fly  so  an 
noyed  the  younger  of  the  travellers  that  he 
chased  him  to  his  death,  remarking,  "  There! 
I  wish  you  were  Debs !  " 
11  161 


162  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  Debs  isn't  to  blame  for  the  weather  or  the 
flies,"  criticised  the  other  man;  "  you  better  be 
thankful  we're  going  at  all.  I  guess  they  will 
have  the  Rock  Island  tied  up  as  tight  as  a  drum 
to-morrow." 

"  Then  I  shall  wish  all  the  more  Debs  was 
this  fly!  "  returned  the  first  man,  coolly,  slip 
ping  into  his  seat. 

"  I'm  not  so  blooming  certain  we  can  get 
through,  to-day,"  the  other  continued;  "  did 
you  know  we  have  got  a  scab  fireman  on?  " 

"  That's  why  those  rocks  flew  at  Spring 
Valley!  " 

"  They  were  rocks,  then?  " 

"  Why,  certainly — "  Then  the  speaker's 
voice  sank,  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  elderly 
woman  from  the  country,  two  seats  in  front, 
who  vainly  tilted  her  plump  neck  backward 
and  strained  her  ears  to  catch  more  than  va 
grant  phrases. 

She  was  a  comely  old  woman,  whose  gray 
hair  was  not  thin,  whose  skin  had  a  wholesome 
clearness,  and  whose  bright  brown  eyes  spar 
kled  behind  her  glasses.  There  was  a  kind  of 
vigorous  neatness  about  her  old-fashioned  toi 
let.  She  was  the  single  person  in  the  car  who 
was  not  dusty.  As  she  listened,  an  emotion  not 


THE  "SCAB"  163 

akin  to  timidity,  stirrred  the  lines  of  her 
mouth,  and  a  color  not  due  to  the  heat,  mottled 
her  still  pretty  cheeks.  Rising,  she  brushed 
the  full  folds  of  her  black  alpaca  skirts  with  a 
determined  action.  She  smoothed  out  the 
wrinkles  of  her  basque  at  the  waist.  With  the 
same  brisk  and  almost  angry  movements  she 
pulled  her  antique  black  straw  bonnet  off  the 
rack,  unswathed  it  from  a  blue  barege  veil  and 
tied  it  firmly  on  her  head.  This  done,  she  ran 
a  careful  eye  over  the  neat  pile  of  her  belong 
ings  on  the  opposite  seat,  pushed  the  handbox, 
covered  with  wall-paper,  into  a  safer  position, 
rested  a  portly,  greenish-black  umbrella 
against  her  knee,  and  sat  upright,  as  one  pre 
pared  for  action. 

When  the  big  brakeman,  whom  every  trav 
eller  on  No.  2  likes,  entered  with  his  water- 
can,  she  beckoned  to  him.  There  had  been  an 
interchange  of  courtesies  and  fried  chicken  be 
tween  the  two  already;  hence  he  halted  with 
the  smile  of  an  acquaintance.  "  Well,  grand 
ma?  "  said  the  brakeman. 

"  Say,  you  set  down  by  me,  cay  n't  you?  I 
got  something  to  tell  you.  But  I  don't  want 
to  take  you  off  your  business;  come  back  if 
you  ain't  got  the  time  now." 


164  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Lyon  is  the  most  amiable  man  on  the  road; 
he  dropped  into  the  seat  beside  her  at  once. 
"  It's  fifteen  minutes  to  the  next  station,"  said 
he,  "  and  we're  running  awful  light — not 
twenty  passengers  on  this  train.  Think  of  that 
for  the  day  before  the  Fourth !  " 

"  It's  a  shame/'  agreed  the  old  woman, 
warmly.  "  Say  " — her  voice,  which  was  so 
mellow  and  leisurely  in  its  intonations  that 
even  its  angry  tones  rang  pleasantly,  sank  into 
a  whisper — "  them  men  behind — don't  look 
round! — the  one  with  the  bald  head  and  the 
big  ears  and  the  fat  one  in  the  blue  striped 
shirt ;  they  bin  settin'  all  round  the  car,  shed- 
din'  papers  wherever  they  set ;  and  I  bin  read- 
in'  the  papers.  Why  on  airth  don't  the  guvern- 
ment  put  a  stop  to  this  f oolishniss  2  " 

"  I  guess  they  won't  let  'em  upset  any  more 
cars,"  said  the  brakeman. 

"They  Setter/  Why,  it's  ridiclous!  They 
throwed  stuns  at  one  car,  it  says.  S'posin' 
there'd  bin  babies  in  that  car!  I  got  a  little 
grandchild  two  years  old  I  come  nigh  a-bring- 
in'  with  me — how'd  I  felt  if  I  had!  And  I 
guess  there's  plenty  other  grandmothers  'sides 
me,  with  childern,  a-travellin' !  Them  men 
say,  too,  we  may  have  trouble  'cause  we  got  a 
scab  fireman  on  board;  have  we?  " 


THE  "SCAB"  165 

The  brakeman  nodded. 

"  Do  tell!  Would  you  mind  tellin'  me,  jest 
to  oblige,  what  a  scab  reely  is?  " 

The  brakeman  had  a  round,  cheerful  young 
face,  to  which  the  freckles  only  imparted 
an  additional  friendliness  of  expression;  but 
at  these  artless  words  it  clouded;  his  lower 
jaw  dropped  and  he  hitched  his  blue  trou 
sers  up  at  the  knee,  appearing  to  ask  aid 
of  the  thick  shoes,  which  were  tapping  the 
floor. 

"A  scab?"  said  the  brakeman,  "why,  a 
scab's  a  feller  that  scabs — takes  another  fel 
ler's  job!" 

"  Well,  but,"  insisted  the  countrywoman, 
"  I  don't  understand.  My  daughter  that  I  bin 
visitin'  in  Iowa,  she  was  havin'  a  cellar  made — 
and  the  mason  that  was  doin'  it  had  a  man 
workin'  for  him  that  bin  workin'  for  him  thir 
teen  year  and  was  the  best  man  he  had,  but  he 
wasn't  a  union  man,  and  the  boss  of  the  union 
told  him  he'd  got  to  send  that  man  off  'cause 
he  didn't  belong  to  the  union,  or  else  all  the 
others  would  strike  on  him,  and  they'd  boycott 
him  with  his  customers,  so  he  done  it,  and  an 
other  man  took  his  place,  now  I  s'pose  he  was 
a  scab?" 


166  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  Didn't  they  give  the  feller  the  choice  of 
joinin'  the  union  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  know  he  went  off,  and  he 
felt  awful  bad,  'cause  he  said  'twasn't  no  fun 
huntin'  a  job  this  year.  Was  that  man  who 
took  his  place  a  scab?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am,  he  was  all  right,  he  be 
longed  to  the  union " 

"  Ain't  nobody  got  a  right  to  work  without 
he  belongs  to  the  union?  " 

"  That  ain't  the  point — ladies  don't  under 
stand.  It's  like  this  way  in  a  strike:  all  the 
workingmen  win  if  the  strike  wins,  and  it  is 
thought  to  be  about  the  durndest  mean  act  a 
man  can  do  to  step  in  and  take  the  place  of 
some  feller  who  is  out  really  fighting  for  him, 
see?" 

"  No,  I  don't  see.  What  good  would  it  'a9 
done  that  mason  if  the  masons  had  struck, 
when  they  wouldn't  let  anybody  hire  him  any 
how?  I  don't  see  no  harm  in  scabs.  What's 
this  one's  name?  Is  he  a  nice  man ?" 

]STo  one  is  less  of  an  agitator  than  Jerry 
Lyon ;  in  preference  to  argument  he  answered 
her  questions;  Yes,  the  fireman  was  a  nice 
man,  and  his  name  was  Eli  Pauls. 

"  Will  they  try  to  hurt  us  'cause  he's  on, 


THE  "SCAB"  167 

think?  Ditch  the  train  maybe,  or  some  sich 
deviltry — they  do  them  things  right  along  it 
says  in  the  papers." 

"  I  don't  believe  the  strikers  do,  railroad 
boys  ain't  so  mean  as  that." 

"  But  somebody  might — it's  done;  and  if 
there  should  be  an  accident,  I  hate  to  trouble 
you,  but  I  got  a  daughter-in-law,  a  widder, 
lives  right  in  Blue  Island — her  name's  Mrs. 
Lizzie  J.  Gayter — and  I  guess  you  better  send 
the  body,  there" 

"  No  you  don't,  grandma,"  said  the  brake- 
man.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  you  git  killed,  nor 
anybody  else.  That's  positive.  Don't  you  be 
lieve  what  those  drummers  say !  " 

He  went  away,  laughing,  but  his  face  dark 
ened  before  he  met  the  conductor  on  the  plat 
form. 

The  conductor  was  reading  a  yellow  slip  of 
paper. 

"  Well? "  said  Lyon,  taking  an  easy,  rail 
way  pose  on  the  steps. 

"  They  stoned  the  last  train  at  Blue  Island 
and  nearly  killed  the  engineer.  Dragged 
him  and  the  fireman  off  the  cab.  Arnold  was 
there  with  the  injunction  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  they  simply  hooted  him — hollered  '  To 


168  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

h with  the  Government,'  and  tore  down 

the  injunctions.  He  tried  to  move  the  trains; 
but  they  knocked  him  down  and  pounded  him. 
The  deputies  ran.  !Nlce  show  for  Pauls,  ain't 
it?" 

The  brakeman  pushed  his  cap  back  off 
his  curly  fair  hair,  .looking  the  other  way. 
"  Pauls  has  got  a  wife  and  six  kids,"  said 
he,  irrelevantly,  "  and  he's  been  out  of  work 
'most  three  months  he  told  me.  He  was  sta 
tionary  engineer  for  a  company  that  failed. 
One  of  his  kids  is  sick;  he's  worried  about 
him." 

"  What  sort  of  fellow  is  he?  " 

"  Oh,  he's  one  of  these  kinder  rabbit  men, 
been  dodging  around  in  his  cab  all  the  way, 
'f raid  of  stones.  He  says  his  wife  used  to  be  a 
school-teacher,  but  she  took  in  sewing  and 
washing,  too,  to  earn  money  while  he  was  out 
of  a  job.  He  worked  out  poll-taxes  or  any 
thing  else  he  could  get — seems  they  are  trying 
to  pay  for  a  house,  and  he's  awful  anxious  to 
earn  money." 

"  You  ever  see  his  wife?  " 

"  !NTah,  but  he's  got  a  picture  of  his  wife  and 
three  of  the  kids;  he  wears  it  in  his  shirt- 
pocket.  It's  got  paper  over  it  to  keep  it  clean. 


THE  "SOAB"  169 

She's  a  real  nice-looking  woman,  and  the  kids 
are  nice-looking,  too." 

"  Shaw!  "  said  the  conductor;  but  the  ex 
clamation  was  one  of  sympathy,  and  the  brake- 
man  so  understood  it.  He  rubbed  one  foot 
over  the  other,  as  he  continued,  with  an  ajf ec- 
tation  of  indifference,  "  Look  here,  Doughty, 
suppose  I  go  in  and  fire  for  that  feller.  Max 
won't  mind.  Everything  is  so  topsy-turvy 
now,  rules  don't  count.  And  all  the  boys 
know  me,  and  they  won't  catch  on  to  him 
if  he's  braking  in  my  place.  What  do  you 


The  conductor  was  a  Scotchman.  He 
rubbed  his  sandy  hair  a  full  minute,  saying 
nothing.  Finally,  he  answered,  "  Let's  go 
talk  to  Max,  and — you  better  take  my  gun !  " 

They  found  the  engineer,  a  sun-burned, 
stolid  man,  leaning  out  of  his  cab,  and  smok 
ing,  while  he  watched  a  little  crowd  of  men 
on  the  platform. 

The  fireman  busied  himself  in  polishing  off 
a  stray  stain  on  some  brass-work.  He  had  a 
nervous  air.  As  he  worked  his  straight,  fair 
hair  fell  over  his  red  face.  He  looked  up 
eagerly  at  Lyon's  approach.  "  What's  the 
news,  Mr.  Lyon?  "  said  he. 


170  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  What's  the  news,  Jerry?  "  said  the  engi 
neer. 

"  Nothing  good,"  answered  Lyon.  "  Say, 
Pauls,  I  guess  you  will  attract  less  observation 
from  our  excitable  friends,  braking  in  a  quiet, 
peaceful  way  than  firing.  Let's  exchange  jobs 
the  rest  of  the  trip  to  Chicago!  " 

The  fireman  flushed.  "  No,  you  don't,"  said 
he,  "  I  ain't  much  on  fighting,  maybe,  but  I 
won't  have  another  man  stoned  in  my  place !  " 

"I  could  have  told  you  he  wouldn't  let 
you,"  said  Max,  the  engineer,  in  his  emotion 
less,  bass  voice. 

Lyon's  persuasions  availed  nothing,  and  he 
was  forced  to  leave  Pauls  at  the  furnace, 
grumbling  as  he  went. 

But  had  he  realized  how  much  lighter  was 
the  fireman's  heart  as  he  peered  over  the  grates 
at  the  saw  of  flame  behind  the  smudge,  he  had 
felt  less  need  to  belabor  his  own  stupidity  for 
making  "  a  bad  break  "  for  nothing.  For,  at 
that  very  moment  Pauls  was  swallowing  hard, 
yearning  in  his  soul  for  some  future  chance  to 
pound  a  possible  assailant  of  Lyon's  to  a  jelly, 
and  inaudibly  praising  Lyon  to  his  wife.  "  I 
do  think  the  boys  are  beginning  to  get  used  to 
uae  a  bit,"  says  Pauls,  choking.  A  little  kind- 


THE  "SCAB"  171 

ness  went  a  long  way  with  the  "  scab.*  He 
was  a  quiet  man,  not  prone  to  vanity  nor  to 
take  offence,  who  had  rehearsed  to  himself  in 
advance  the  snubs  and  annoyances  that  a 
"  scab  "  must  count  on  getting,  and  had  prom 
ised  himself  not  to  resent  them.  Julie  couldn't 
understand ;  but  he,  himself,  had  the  working- 
man's  feeling  about  the  man  who  would  steal 
another  man's  job.  He  didn't  blame  the  yard 
men  and  the  train  crews  taking  his  presence  in 
bad  part  and  showing  their  resentment  in  any 
form  short  of  stones.  "  It's  natural,"  Pauls 
used  to  say  rather  drearily  to  himself,  folding 
his  bare  arms  on  the  window-sill  of  the  cab  and 
puffing  at  his  pipe ;  "  they  don't  like  me  tak 
ing  Ridgely's  place.  /  don't  think  I'm  wrong. 
The  strike  is  a  fool  strike  and  a  mean  one,  and 
Hidgely  hasn't  got  any  right  to  throw  up  his 
job  and  then  expect  other  men  to  let  their 
families  suffer  rather  than  take  it  from  him. 
Julie's  right.  I  owe  more  to  her  and  the  chil 
dren  than  I  do  to  a  man  I  never  saw  in  my  life. 
But  I  can't  expect  the  boys  that  knew  Ridgely 
to  look  at  it  like  I  do!" 

And  Pauls  had  so  much  of  the  working- 
man's  prejudice  in  him  that  he  felt  cowed  by 
the  tacit  disapproval  of  his  comrades;  he  could 


172  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

not  keep  his  chin  in  the  air  did  the  street  boys 
yell  "  Scab!  "  at  him.  A  workingman's  com 
rades  are  his  society,  there  is  no  public  opinion 
to  him  outside  his  own  class;  to  lose  the  good 
will  of  the  men  who  work  at  his  side,  every  day, 
is  to  be  an  outcast.  It  had  really  taken  more 
moral  courage  for  Pauls  to  climb  up  the  steps 
of  the  cab,  the  first  time,  than  many  a  man 
needs  during  his  whole  life.  "  I  ain't  doing 
wrong,  if  they  do  think  so,"  he  said,  doggedly. 
But  he  felt  grateful  even  for  the  cool  indiffer 
ence  of  his  new  comrades.  "  They  haven't 
done  a  mean  thing  to  me,"  he  told  Julie,  and 
he  was  very  cheerful  before  her  and  the  little 
sick  boy  who  was  interested  in  the  engine.  He 
didn't  tell  his  wife  how  often  he  thought  of 
Ridgely,  the  striking  fireman.  There  was  his 
oil-can  and  the  bits  of  waste  that  he  had  used 
in  polishing  the  engine;  sombrely  enough 
Pauls  stared  at  them  many  a  time,  wondering 
what  manner  of  man  Ridgely  was,  and  if  he 
needed  the  place.  Once  he  asked  Max 
whether  Ridgely  was  a  married  man,  and  stuck 
his  head  into  the  furnace  door  and  withdrew  it, 
red  as  the  fire  inside. 

"  No,"  said  Max.     He  added  no  possible 
romance  for  Ridgely.    Pauls  heaved  a  mighty 


TEE   "SCAB"  173 

shovelful  of  slack  on  the  grates.  "  What  kind 
of  a  man  was  Riclgely?  "  said  he,  coughing  in 
the  dust  that  he  raised.  But  Max  did  not  no 
tice  his  confusion  and  answered  carelessly, 
"  Oh,  he  wasn't  much  'count.  He  didn't  keep 
things  clean,  and  he  was  always  getting  tired 
shovelling  and  wanting  to  run  the  engine!  " 

And  then  the  conductor  had  happened  to 
come  up ;  and  Pauls  had  never  got  his  courage 
into  action  again.  Not  even  to  Lyon  who  was 
kind  to  him,  could  he  unpack  his  wishes  and 
scruples  and  regrets  about  Ridgely.  Max  was 
kind  to  him,  also ;  but  Max  was  a  taciturn  man 
who  smoked  a  short  pipe,  consuming  his 
thoughts,  as  some  chimneys  consume  their 
smoke.  Lyon,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  open- 
hearted,  frank  fellow,  reared  on  a  farm  in  a 
large  family,  who  insensibly  began  to  pity 
Pauls  as  soon  as  he  knew  that  he  had  six  chil 
dren.  He  was  not  aware  that  he  was  kind — 
indeed,  he  regarded  his  behavior  as  having  the 
happy  mixture  of  forbearance  and  contempt 
due  from  a  loyal  member  of  a  union  that  was 
not  striking  and  opposed  to  the  present  strike, 
to  a  useful  but  odious  "  scab."  In  Pauls's  case, 
however,  his  feelings  were  complicated  by — 
Ridgely !  None  of  the  train-crew  liked  Ridge- 


THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

ly;  and  Lyon  hated  him.  Lyon  had  a  sweet 
heart;  and  he  was  bitterly  jealous  of  Kidgely, 
with  his  handsome  face  and  fluent  tongue. 
Ridgely  had  bragged  that  he  could  marry 
"  Jerry  Lyon's  best  girl,  any  time  he  wanted 
to/7  and  Lyon's  fists  clinched  whenever  he 
thought  of  the  man.  But  he  couldn't  abuse 
him  to  Pauls;  so  Pauls  wondered  at  the  si 
lence.  To-day,  Ridgely  was  persistently  in  his 
mind.  Was  poor  Ridgely  among  the  rioters? 
"I'd  like  to  do  that  man  a  good  turn!" 
thought  Pauls. 

"  Next  stop  is  Blue  Island,"  said  Max. 

"  They  are  quiet  enough,  here,"  said  Pauls, 
looking  out  at  the  pretty  little  houses  with 
their  fresh  paint  and  the  dusty  street,  and  a 
gray  team  of  farm-horses  with  a  farmer  at  their 
heads.  The  farmer,  seeing  that  his  horses 
would  stand,  left  them  and  approached  the 
train.  Pauls  saw  his  face  light  up,  and  in  a 
second  saw  him  swing  himself  on  the  platform 
of  the  rear  car. 

"  Yes,  it's  quiet  enough,  here,"  said  Max. 

w  But  I  see  some  white  ribbons,"  said  Pauls. 
"  Don't  it  seem  an  awful  strange  thing  that  a 
week  ago  we  were  all  so  peaceful  and  now  may 
be  there'll  be  civil  war." 


THE  "SCAB"  175 

"  There  won't  be  no  civil  war,"  said  Max ; 
"  those  fellers  won't  fight;  it's  jest  a  big 
bluff." 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,"  said  Pauls,  stealing  a 
glance  at  the  contemptuous  immobility  of  the 
engineer's  face;  "I'd  hate  to  kill  a  man,  it 
would  be  an  awful  thing;  and  yet — I  guess 
I'd  do  it  before  I'd  give  up  and  let  'em  kill  the 
engine.  What  do  you  think?  " 

Max's  peaceful  face  did  not  change;  but  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  hip-pocket  and  showed  a 
hammerless  revolver.  "  I  ain't  going  to  let 
them  kill  my  engine  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  he, 
quietly.  "  They'd  hurt  her.  They  don't  mind 
what  they  do  to  an  engine,  those  fellers."  He 
flicked  a  speck  off  the  shining  brass-work. 

"  She's  a  beauty,"  acquiesced  Pauls,  "  it 
would  hurt  me,  too,  to  see  her  hurt." 

A  faint  gleam  crept  into  Max's  gray  eyes. 
"  Ridgely  used  to  say  she  wasn't  no  better'n 
half  a  dozen  engines  on  the  road,"  said  he.  "  I 
— I  ain't  sorry  Ridgely 's  gone." 

Pauls  essayed  to  speak  lightly,  but  his  voice 
shook,  "  Well,  I — fact  of  the  matter  is,  I've 
felt  pretty  bad  'bout  taking  his  place." 

"  You  needn't,"  said  Max. 

He  said  no  more,  either  because  he  would 


176  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

not  have  said  more,  in  any  event,  or  because 
lie  saw  three  men  under  the  cab-window. 

The  three  men  were  Lyon,  the  conductor, 
and  the  farmer.  An  air  of  controlled  agitation 
hung  about  them  all.  The  conductor  spoke  in 
a  low  voice,  plainly  trying  to  seem  uncon 
cerned.  He  said,  "  They  have  been  having  a 

h of  a  time  in  Blue  Island  and  Chicago, 

all  day!  "  Now,  the  conductor  was  a  Presby 
terian  who  never  used  an  oath. 

"So?"  said  Max. 

"  Don't  look  as  if  anything  was  up,"  said 
Doughty,  rapidly;  "  there's  no  knowing  who's 
spying  on  us.  I'll  explain  to  you."  He  ex 
plained  in  a  few  sentences.  The  man  with 
them  was  the  son  of  a  lady  on  the  train.  He 
lived  about  two  miles  out  of  Blue  Island,  and 
he  had  gone  in  early,  to  be  there  to  meet  his 
mother,  who  was  coming  to  visit  him.  He  had 
a  sister  in  town,  and  she  had  seen  the  rioters 
dropping  something  between  the  rails.  No 
doubt  they  were  spiking  the  switches,  but  they 
hadn't  driven  the  spikes  in.  She  told  her 
brother,  and  he  had  gone  to  the  next  town  to 
meet  his  mother  there  and  to  warn  the  train. 
The  place  was  a  little  before  they  entered  the 
depot.  "That's  the  situation,  boys,"  said 


THE  "SCAB"  177 

Doughty,  "  aud  I  don't  know  how  you  feel 
about  it,  but  I  said,  with  Max  at  the  engine  I 
believed  we  could  run  the  train  into  Chicago, 
and  I  don't  like  to  be  downed." 

"  What  you  think  of  doing?  "  asked  Max, 
cutting  off  a  slice  of  tobacco. 

Doughty  and  the  farmer  exchanged  glances. 
"  We  are  not  going  to  do  much  of  anything,  I 
guess,  but  Mrs.  Gayter,  this  gentleman's 
mother,  says  those  bolts  must  be  picked  up,  un 
suspected,  and  she  is  game  to  do  it  for  us,  her 
self.  She  has  a  plan — well,  I  guess  we  cooked 
it  up  amongst  us.  But  the  old  lady  will  dress 
up  in  an  old  dress  she's  got  with  her,  and  be  a 
peanut-woman.  We  can  get  all  Tommy's  pea 
nuts  and  apples.  And  when  she  gets  to  the 
spot  she  will  tip  her  basket  over  and  while  she 
is  picking  them  up,  she  will  pick  up  a  few 
spikes  that  are  of  no  account  round  there.  The 
old  lady  is  smart  as  a  whip-lash  and  I  believe 
she  will  do  it." 

"  But  somebody  ought  to  go  with  her!  " 
Pauls  cried,  "  somebody  that  knows  about  the 
road " 

The  conductor  took  the  words  off  his  tongue, 
"  Lyon,  of  course,  spoke  up  for  the  job,  but 
I  told  him  they  would  be  on  to  him  in  a  flash." 

12 


178  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  But  they  don't  know  me"  said  Pauls. 

"  Well,  if  you  want  the  job,  I  guess  Lyon 
can  fire  for  you,"  returned  the  conductor. 
"  Come  on  back  into  the  car." 

Pauls  followed.  Lyon  at  the  door  looked 
back  at  the  engineer.  "  Will  he  do,  guess? " 
said  he. 

"  Sure/'  said  Max. 

Ten  minutes  later,  Max  and  Lyon  looked  out 
of  the  cab-window  to  see  a  farm-wagon  disap 
pear  through  a  radiant  cloud  of  dust.  Pauls 
sat  behind  drilling  the  impromptu  peanut- 
woman  in  her  part. 

Her  son  had  brought  a  bit  of  white  ribbon, 
which  he  insisted  on  pinning  to  her  blue  calico 
gown,  on  the  shoulder  (this  was  her  stipula 
tion),  where  she  would  not  need  to  see  it.  She 
had  pulled  a  stiff  and  very  clean  yellow  sun- 
bonnet  over  her  head.  "  'Tis  pretty  warm, 
this  bunnit,  but  I'm  willin'  to  do  my  part  to 
put  down  the  rebellion,"  said  she,  stoutly. 
"  My  father  fit  for  the  flag  in  1812  and  my 
husband  was  killed  for  it  in  1863,  leavin'  Sam, 
there,  no  more'n  a  baby;  and  I'm  willin'  to 
bear  my  testimony,  now.  Talk  of  persenti- 
ments,  I  felt  a  persentiment  creepin'  cole  down 
my  spine,  the  minnit  I  heard  them  men  a-talk- 


THE  "SCAB"  179 

in'.  And  I  got  all  my  things  ready,  straight, 
I  didn't  have  to  keep  Sam  waiting  none!  " 

Her  high  spirits,  which  were  not  in  the  least 
feigned,  put  a  new  fire  into  Paul's  veins.  He 
had  not  thought  of  the  matter  in  such  a  light. 
"  Every  good  American  ought  to  be  helping 
now,"  cried  she;  "  it's  a  good  way,  I  guess,  of 
celebratin'  the  Fourth!  " 

"  That's  so,"  her  son  agreed,  smiling  on  her 
proudly.  But  for  the  most  part  he  was  very 
grave,  having  a  better  appreciation  than  she 
of  the  quality  of  the  scene  to  which  he  was 
taking  her.  Pauls  did  not  see  the  houses  nor 
the  parched  woodlands,  nor  the  trampled, 
scorched  roadside  drifting  past  his  wide  eyes; 
he  saw  a  tiny  lawn,  green  and  closely  clipped, 
he  saw  the  clematis  vine  on  a  cottage  porch, 
rustling  and  waving  in  the  wind,  and  through 
the  purple  and  green  he  saw  a  patched  ham 
mock  with  a  little,  smiling,  pale  face  on  the 
pillow,  and  a  black-haired  woman  rocking  and 
sewing,  near.  He  remembered  some  verses 
that  he  had  learned  once  to  speak  in  school, 
they  were  about  a  dying  gladiator, 

41  There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play, 
There  was  their  Dacian  mother. " 

Suppose  those  Blue  Island  toughs  killed  him, 


180  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

would  he  see  Julie  and  Jim  and  the  girls? 
The  farmer  half  turned  his  head.  "  Got  a 
pistol  ?  "  said  he. 

Pauls  shook  his  dead.  "  They  cost  so 
much/7  said  he,  apologetically.  "  I  was  a  sta 
tionary  engineer,  before,  and  didn't  need  one. 
Max  asked  me  if  I  had  one,  but  I  knew  he 
would  want  to  give  me  his,  and  he  needed  it, 
so  I  said,  <  That's  all  right; '  and  he  thought 
I  had  one." 

"  I  wish  I  had  one/'  said  the  farmer,  with  a 
rueful  smile,  "  but  I  haven't  anything — ex 
cept  cannon  firecrackers  for  my  children!  " 

"They're  better'n  nothin',"  observed  the 
old  woman,  cheerily.  "  Look,  Sam,  ain't  we 
comin'  into  Blue  Island?  " 

Pauls  stared  down  the  straggling  sky  line  of 
shops  and  houses.  He  could  see  the  street 
jammed  with  black  figures,  wavering  in 
ragged  lines;  he  saw,  here  and  there,  a  spiral 
of  smoke  curling  up  from  the  open  street;  that 
must  be  a  blockaded  engine.  But,  in  general, 
the  sky  was  strangely  pure,  no  smoke  from  the 
great  factories,  no  smoke  from  the  railroad- 
shops.  "  Debs  has  kept  his  word,"  explained 
Sam;  "  he's  tied  the  Rock  Island  up  tight." 

Their  plans  were  now  to  be  tested.    Sam 


THE  "SCAB"  181 

drew  up  the  wagon  close  to  the  wooden  side 
walk,  where  a  patch  of  smart-weed  and  jiin- 
son  made  a  squalid  boulevard  between  the 
road  and  the  planks.  He  kissed  his  mother, 
saying,  "  I'll  keep  close  behind,  ma,  mind 
that!  "  Then  he  shook  Pauls's  hand.  Pauls 
said,  "  It's  Mrs.  W.  T.  Pauls,  if  you  lose  the 
address."  Sam  nodded.  "  And  you  look  af 
ter  your  mother,  don't  mind  me,  whatever  hap 
pens,"  said  Pauls.  Then  he  crossed  the  street 
and  strolled  along,  an  idle  stranger,  seeking 
the  spectacles  of  the  day.  On  the  other  side, 
an  old  peanut-woman  proffered  her  wares  to 
the  few  passers-by.  In  the  middle  of  the  road, 
a  farmer  drove  a  tired  team  of  horses  slowly 
down  the  broad  street.  Presently,  the 
stranger,  who  looked  like  most  of  the  men 
about,  in  his  flannel  shirt  and  shabby  trousers, 
had  come  to  the  railway  tracks  and  the  crowd. 
An  observable  thing  about  the  crowd  was  its 
youth.  There  were  beardless  young  fellows  at 
every  turn.  They  perched  on  fences  and  car- 
roofs.  Their  hats  were  pushed  back  on  their 
heads,  their  faces  were  flushed,  and  they  called 
jeers  and  witty  abuse  of  the  marshals  (as  they 
esteemed  wit)  from  one  group  to  another. 
o  of  them  walked  the  rounds  of  the  trains, 


182  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

and  stared  at  the  weary  faces  at  the  windows. 
Another  feature  of  the  crowd  was  the  number 
of  women  and  children  in  its  ranks,  so  that  the 
wailing  of  children  was  one  of  the  component 
parts  of  the  din.  The  women  were  untidy  of 
dress,  as  plainly  in  their  working-clothes  as 
the  men  were  in  theirs,  their  tousled  hair  often 
uncovered  and  their  faces  disfigured  by  a  fury 
of  excitement.  Not  a  tin  star  was  in  sight ;  but 
a  policeman  leaned  drowsily  against  a  saloon- 
door  and  looked  to  be  in  a  Nirvana  of  rest  amid 
the  turmoil. 

The  shabby  man  walked  along  the  tracks 
just  behind  the  wagon.  Though  the  way  was 
clear  the  wagon  halted  for  a  second,  as  if  to 
allow  the  driver  to  read  one  of  the  placards  on 
the  cars.  It  went  on  and  the  man,  following, 
stood  still  for  the  same  purpose.  He  was 
roused  by  an  exclamation  of  distress,  in  a 
woman's  pipe.  Behold,  behind  him,  the  un 
lucky  peanut-woman  who  had  stumbled  and 
spilled  her  nuts  over  the  track !  The  children, 
swaKaaing  there  as  everywhere,  were  on  all 
fours  after  them  in  a  trice;  and  the  owner 
crawled  about  the  rails,  lamenting  and  pick 
ing  up  peanuts.  The  man  seemed  to  be  a 
good-natured  fellow,  for  he  was  active  in  dis- 


THE  "SCAB"  183 

persing  the  small  banditti  and  collecting  pea 
nuts.  He  did  not  lose  patience  with  the  old 
woman,  although  she  thriftily  gathered  up  the 
last  peanut  from  the  frogs  and  once  or  twice  in 
her  eagerness  caught  her  cotton  gown  between 
the  cunning  joints,  requiring  his  help  to  re 
lease  her.  "  Good-by,  grandma,"  he  called,  as 
she  stumbled  painfully  away,  and  disappeared 
in  the  crowd.  He  remained,  studying  the 
placards.  He  brought  some  food  from  a 
restaurant  to  a  woman  in  one  of  the  cars.  He 
joined  in  one  or  two  very  brief  conversations. 
He  watched  a  pleasant-looking  countrywoman 
in  a  black  alpaca  gown  (who  came  out  of  one 
of  the  better  class  of  houses  down  a  side-street) 
clamber  into  the  countryman's  wagon.  She 
looked  about  her,  smiling  happily  like  a  child ; 
and  he  smiled,  too. 

But,  immediately,  his  mouth  compressed  it 
self  in  a  very  different  smile.  And  he  walked 
up  the  track. 

The  train  ran  into  Blue  Island,  as  if  the  rails 
were  eggs.  Max  with  his  hand  on  the  lever, 
did  not  let  his  glance  swerve  a  hair's-breadth. 
Big  drops  rolled  down  Lyon's  pale  face,  his 
teeth  flashed  in  a  grin  of  intensest  excitement 
and  watchfulness;  he  kept  his  eyes  on  Max, 


184:  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

who,  except  for  his  keen  eyes,  looked  as  impas 
sive  as  ever. 

"  We  were  to  stop  if  we  didn't  see  him,"  said 
Lyon. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Max — he  spoke  as 
quietly  as  he  would  have  spoken  ten  days  be 
fore — "  yes,  that's  him.  He's  signalling  for 
us  to  go  straight  on  and  not  stop.  Does  he 
know  the  signals,  for  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  taught  him.     By Look  at 

him;  do  you  see  the  mob ?" 

"  Do  you  hear  them?  Boys  this  looks 
bad!  " — it  was  a  new  voice;  Doughty,  the 
conductor,  had  made  his  way  to  the  engine,  he 
was  clambering  along  the  foot-board. 

"  Get  in,  Doughty,"  said  Max,  not  turning 
his  head,  "  I  hear  them.  "We're  getting  near." 

Near  enough,  now,  for  the  three  men  to  hear 
the  hollow  roar  and  hiss  as  one  word  was 
screamed  by  hundreds  of  throats,  "  Scab ! 
scab !  "  Near  enough  to  see  the  furious  faces, 
the  clinched  fists  and  the  women's  arms 
scratching  in  the  common  insult  of  the  mob. 
And  near  enough  to  see,  on  a  pile  of  lumber,  a 
single  man,  his  arms  above  his  head  waving 
the  signal.  "  Track  clear!  Don't  stop!  " 

"  He  knows  they'll  block  the  track.     It's 


THE  "SCAB"  185 

our  only  chance  to  get  through,"  said  the  con 
ductor. 

"  Scabs!  Scabs!  Kill  the  scabs !  PulPem 
off  the  engine!  "  a  woman's  voice  shrieked, 
shriller  than  the  rest. 

"  He's  going  to  make  a  run  for  us,"  cried 
Lyon;  "that's  Slippery  Dick  behind  him; 
they've  caught  on  to  the  signals — yah,  I  knew 
it,  there  come  the  stones !  " 

"  He  ain't  running  to  us,  he's  running  'cross 
the  street!"  said  Max,  "he  won't  bring 
trouble  on  us." 

"  Here's  another  stone,"  said  the  conductor; 
"  I  must  get  back  to  my  passengers.  Max,  you 
know  the  orders.  Let  her  go!  " 

Lyon  thought  he  heard  a  queer  sound  from. 
Max  when  he  pushed  the  lever  and  opened  the 
throttle.  "  I  hate  to  leave  that  fellow!  "  he 
growled;  but  the  great  black  bulk  quivered 
and  raced  down  on  the  mob,  faster  at  each, 
word.  The  slack  flew  into  the  furnace.  Then, 
the  fireman's  head  pitched  out  of  the  black 
dust  and  he  stole  a  glance  through  the  win 
dow. 

"  Nobody  ever  kept  her  so  clean  like  he 
did !  "  Max  was  muttering.  "  Jerry,  can't 
you  see  nothing?" 


186  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Lyon  shook  his  fist  in  an  ecstasy  of  rage. 
"  If  there  wasn't  a  whole  litter  of  children  in 

the  way  I'd  shoot,  I  would  by !    D 

them,  they're  stoning  him!  That  dirty — Bul 
ly  for  grandma,  she's  trying  to  get  him  in  the 
wagon —  Oh! — "  Lyon  swore  in  a  sob  of 
passion  that  cracked  into  a  fierce  laugh. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell,  instead  of  hollering 
like  a  wild  Injun?"  cried  the  justly  ex 
asperated  Max.  "  You  know  I  can't  turn 
'round!  " 

"  It  was  that  black-hearted  devil,  Dick," 
said  Lyon;  "  he  hit  the  old  lady  with  a  coup 
ling-pin,  tumbled  her  clean  off  the  seat,  and 
Pauls  smashed  him  with  the  same  pin — 
They've  got  him  down —  Oh,  Max,  I  cayn't 
stand— rrh!" 

It  was  no  articulate  exclamation  that  reeled 
out  of  Lyon's  lips,  but  rather  a  gasp,  a  groan, 
and  a  scream  all  jumbled  together.  And  Max 
heard  nothing  of  it,  for  even  that  modern 
Roman  sentinel  wheeled  round  the  upper  part 
of  him  at  a  tremendous  barking  clatter  of  ex 
plosion,  followed  by  a  tumult  of  shrieks  and 
shouts. 

"  I  think  that  must  have  been  a  bomb,"  said 
[Lyon,  in  a  small,  gentle  voice. 


THE  "SCAB"  187 

"  What  can  you  see?  "  asked  Max,  a  statue 
again. 

"  They  all  seem  to  be  running — the  horses 
are  running,  too — I  can't  see " 

Nor  could  he,  for  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  a  lessening  perspective  of  cars  and 
rails;  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the  pounding 
gallop  of  the  insensate  steed  that  hurried  them 
away. 

"  I'm  going  back  to  Blue  Island  on  the 
street-cars,  the  minit  I  git  to  Chicago/'  Lyon 
announced.  "  I'm  going  to  see  about  that 
bomb!  Poor  Pauls." 

"  That  didn't  sound  to  me  so  much  like  a 
bomb,  it  sounded  just  like  cannon  fire 
crackers,"  meditated  Max. 

Nor  was  it  a  bomb.  When  Pauls  ran  he 
had  no  thought  to  run  to  his  friends.  He  was 
simply  trying  to  turn  the  attention  of  the  mob 
away  from  the  engine. 

But  thus  running,  he  heard  a  voice,  "  Here, 
here !  climb  in !  "  And  he  saw  the  wagon  be 
side  him.  The  next  instant,  the  old  woman 
dropped.  There  was  blood  on  her  gray  hair, 
and  Pauls's  brain  seemed  to  burst  into  flames. 
He  struck  furiously  at  the  assailant,  and  as  if 
by  the  wind  of  his  own  blow  was  felled. 


188  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

He  did  not  feel  hurt  nor  frightened,  he  only 
felt  a  mad,  overwhelming  brute  longing  to 
fight,  to  kill,  before  they  should  trample  the 
life  out  of  him!  But  then  the  crash  and  the 
blaze  came;  and  the  crowd  was  running  and 
he  was  lying  on  his  back,  stupidly  staring  up 
into  the  sky.  He  squinted  one  eye  along  the 
ground  until  it  encountered  a  curl  of  red 
paper,  and  he  began  to  laugh.  Firecrackers  or 
not,  some  people  were  hurt,  for  he  had  heard 
the  screams.  And  he  laughed  again,  while  he 
crawled  to  his  feet.  A  woman — not  a  woman 
of  the  crowd,  a  woman  with  a  neat  dress  and 
smooth  hair — ran  to  him  and  helped  him 
along,  urging  him  to  haste.  She  took  him  into 
a  drug-store  where  they  washed  his  face  and 
dosed  him  with  brandy  and  got  him  into  an 
other  coat. 

"  The  lady  in  the  wagon — does  anybody 
know  if  the  lady  in  the  wagon  was  hurt?" 
Pauls  begged,  the  instant  they  let  his  mouth 
alone. 

"  Ma?  "  cried  the  kind  woman  beside  him, 
"  ma's  all  right,  just  round  the  corner  in  the 
wagon.  I'll  take  you." 

She  guided  him  out  of  the  house,  by  the 
back  door,  and  down  a  peaceful  alley  to  a 


THE  "SCAB"  189 

shady  street  where  the  Gayter  wagon  stood 
under  a  branching  maple,  the  horses  nibbling 
grass  as  tranquilly  as  if  they  had  never  sniffed 
powder  and  known  war. 

Mrs.  Gayter  sat  on  the  front  seat.  Except 
the  flutter  of  a  white  handkerchief  beneath 
the  generous  curve  of  her  bonnet,  not  a  mark 
of  combat  showed  on  her  genial  visage.  Sam 
wore  a  new  hat  and  he  had  a  bruise  on  his 
cheek-bone,  but  he,  too,  was  smiling;  and  he 
wrung  Pauls's  hand  in  a  mighty  grip. 

"  Did  you  kill  him?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Pauls,  "  I  did  my 
best!  " 

Sam  looked  downcast,  but  Mrs.  Gayter's 
rich  tones  struck  in,  consolingly,  "  Maybe  it's 
best  not.  I  don't  wish  no  f eller-cretur  to  be 
killed.  Don't  feel  bad,  boys.  He  gave  me  a 
reel  good  chance  to  set  off  that  hull  bunch  of 
firecrackers,  and  I  reely  think,  besides,  I  run 
over  him.  We  hadn't  orter  be  too  ha'sh !  Mr. 
Pauls,  there's  one  thing,  though,  I  wish  you'd 
do  for  me,  that  is,  git  some  firecrackers  in  Chi 
cago  for  the  childern,  the  king  firecrackers.  I 
cayn't  git  them  here,  and  the  childern  would 
be  so  disapp'inted  if  they  didn't  git  'em.  Sam 
will  come  in  here  for  them  to-morrow  morn- 


190  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

in'  and  Lizzie  will  show  you  what  cars  to 
take." 

Lizzie  showed  Pauls  so  well  that  without 
further  misadventure  he  reached  the  city  and 
ran  into  Max  and  Lyon,  just  starting  out  in 
search  of  him.  He  thought  it  was  worth  the 
tussle  and  all  his  bruises  to  have  Lyon  wring 
his  hand  and  Max  grin  placidly  upon  him. 
"  Well,  they  didn't  kill  you,"  said  Max.  "  Did 
you  kill  Kidgely?" 

"Me?    Kidgely?"  repeated  Pauls,  dazed. 

"  That  was  Kidgely  hit  the  old  lady,"  ex 
plained  Lyon.  "  Slippery  Dick  Kidgely — 
used  to  run  with  us." 

"Was  that  man  Ridgely?"  said  Pauls, 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "  Boys,  I've  been  sorry  for 
him " 

"  You  needn't  be!  "  said  Max,  grimly. 

"  I  wish  you'd  killed  him !  "   said  Lyon. 

"  I  did  my  best,"  said  Pauls,  humbly.  "  At 
least " — he  added  the  words  with  a  queer 
smile  that  only  Max  understood — "  at  least 
if  I  haven't  killed  him,  I've  killed  his 
ghost!  " 


THE    CONSCIENCE    OF   A 
BUSINESS   MAN 


THE    CONSCIENCE    OF   A 
BUSINESS   MAN 

A  SMALL  cyclone  was  blowing  through  the 
eight-inch  mill  of  the  Edgewater  Steel 
Works.  Sam  Swift,  the  roller,  commonly  a 
mild  and  taciturn  man,  had  been  exasperated 
to  the  swearing  point  (which,  in  truth,  is  easy 
to  reach  in  a  rolling-mill!)  by  the  persistent 
and  heart-breaking  stupidity  of  his  finisher. 
The  last  offence  was  to  forget  to  grease  the 
iiole,  causing  the  oval  iron  to  stick,  so  that  when 
the  roller  impatiently  clapped  his  tongs  to  it, 
it  was  beyond  a  giant's  muscles,  and  Swift  had 
pulled  it  out  of  the  guides,  cursing.  "  Yester 
day  you  tangled  up  the  ovals,  and  to-day  you 
forget  the  grease,"  he  raged.  "  You're  the 
worst  man  to  poke  in  iron  I  ever  did  see! 
Blank!  blank!!  blank !!!  "—the  finisher  tak 
ing  it  all  with  exemplary  patience,  and  Swift, 
amid  his  swelling  fury,  not  losing  a  second, 
but  rapidly  and  effectively  pushing  a  new  oval 

into  the  guides. 

13  193 


194  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

Finally  the  finisher  opened  his  lips,  but  not 
to  defend  himself.  He  said,  meekly,  "  Say, 
Sam,  there's  the  kid  and  Mr.  Jamieson  and  the 
old  man  coming  our  way,  right  behind  you." 

Sam  remarked  that  he  didn't  care  if  the 
devil  were  coming;  but  it  was  one  thing  to 
swear  at  his  finisher,  himself,  quite  another  to 
expose  him  to  censure  from  the  higher  powers, 
and  he  subsided  into  a  resentful  silence. 

Young  Randall,  the  secretary,  came  first,  a 
pleasant,  cool  figure,  that  steaming  August 
day,  in  white  crash,  with  a  pink  rose  in  his  but 
tonhole.  Next,  Mr.  Martin  Jamieson,  the 
treasurer,  middle-aged,  meagre,  rather  near 
sighted,  never  knowing  any  of  the  men;  and 
last,  was  the  president,  "  the  old  man."  Rivers 
was  his  name — Jabez  Wentworth  Rivers.  He 
always  signed  it  J.  W.  Rivers.  He  was  of 
middle  stature  and  full  habit,  and  when  moved 
to  anger  (which  was  oftener  than  was  good  for 
his  soul)  he  would  grow  very  red  in  the  face. 
Randall,  who  had  inherited  his  father's  stock, 
and  was  but  recently  graduated  from  Harvard, 
considered  his  senior  to  be  lacking  in  dignity. 
Secretly,  also,  he  feared  that  Rivers's  busi 
ness  talents  had  been  overrated.  He  was  too 
cautious;  he  did  not  perceive  business  possi- 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  195 

bilities  quickly.  Randall  said  as  much  to 
Jamieson  once;  that  was  in  the  spring,  and 
Jamieson  had  answered  grimly,  "  This  is  no 
year  for  branching  out;  the  old  man  is  right." 
To-day,  Randall  thought  Jamieson  was  telling 
the  truth.  His  eye  wandered  to  the  dinner- 
buckets  that  were  coming  into  the  mill. 

"If  we  shut  down  what  will  they  have  to 
put  in  them? "  he  questioned,  and  his  face 
darkened.  He  did  not  notice  Swift  smiling 
and  nodding. 

The  roller's  face  fell.  "  Can't  be  he's  mad 
at  me  for  anything,"  he  thought.  "  Oh,  I 
guess  he's  jest  busy  thinking."  He  liked  the 
secretary — all  the  men  liked  him,  he  was  so 
sunny  and  good-natured,  and  remembered 
their  given  names. 

The  old  man  rolled  in,  looking  much  as 
usual,  finding  time  to  stop  and  mutter  over 
some  ovals  a  fraction  too  small  (nobody  else 
would  have  noticed  them ;  they  were  accepted 
by  an  amiable  inspector,  without  kicking,  the 
next  week),  and  to  nod  at  Swift  in  passing. 
But  the  roller  looked  after  him  and  shook  his 
head.  The  old  man  was  aging,  or  else  some 
thing  had  gone  wrong;  he  didn't  have  that 
drawn  twitch  about  his  mouth  last  week.  At 


196  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

noon  the  heater  of  the  twelve-inch  mill  saun 
tered  up  to  Swift.  He  was  a  man  who  picked 
up  all  the  shop  gossip.  "  Hear  they're  going 
to  shet  down,  Monday,"  he  remarked. 

"H !"  said  the  roller. 

"  Yes,  sir;  orders  give  out — folks  won't 
specify.  Waiting  till  after  election,  they  say." 

"  Who  told  you?  " 

"  Nev'  mind;  I  ain't  giving  it  away.  Say, 
did  you  mind  how  glum  the  kid  was?  " 

"  What  if  he  was? " 

"  That's  what.  He  thinks  it  an  all-fired 
shame,  and  so  'tis.  Say,  I  got  five  children, 
oldest  ain't  'leven.  Mill  I  was  working  in  last 
shet  down  and  didn't  run  for  two  months. 
Save  anything?  How'n  h kin  I  save  any 
thing,  me  in  that  fix  ?  I  tell  you,  Sammy,  it's 
all  wrong,  jest  like  the  kid  says — I  heard  him 
talking  to  some  girls  he  was  taking  over  the 
works — our  hull  industrial  system  is  wrong, 
says  he.  You  bet  your  life  it  is,  too !  Look  at 
old  Eivers,  s'posing  they  do  shet  down,  'twon't 
faze  him.  He'll  be  making  a  little  less  money, 
that's  all;  but  you'n  me  will  be  skinning 
round  for  credit  at  the  grocer  and  figurin'  how 
often  a  week  we  dast  have  meat !  " 

"  I  guess  it  won't  be  precisely  a  picnic  tQ 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  197 

Jabez  Rivers,"  said  the  roller,  mildly,  as  be 
came  a  conservative  and  "  better  fixed  "  man. 
The  roller  had  saved  money;  neither  was  he 
so  rich  in  the  poor  man's  joys  as  the  other. 

"  Lemme  tell  you  something.  What  do  you 
think  of  a  man  who's  going  to  spend  forty  or 
fifty  thousand  dollars  buying  a  house  while 
men  are  begging  for  work  to  keep  their  fam 
ilies?  That's  what  he's  going  to  do,  and  shet 
down  his  shops.  Do  you  call  that  fair  deal- 
in'  ? " 

"  He's  'got  a  house;  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  know  he  has — a  fine  one ;  that  makes  it 
worse.  'Tain't  as  if  he  was  having  to  pay  rent. 
E"o,  sir;  I  know  all  about  it." 

"  Maybe  'twould  ease  you  a  mite  to  spit  it 
all  out,  then.  What's  the  old  man  wanting  a 
fifty-thousand  dollar  house  for?  He  ain't  one 
of  them  all-for-show  folks.  Never  was." 

The  heater  extracted  a  light-brown  and 
slightly  crumpled  cigar  from  a  pocket,  lighted 
it,  and  puffed  a  second  under  the  critical  gaze 
of  the  roller. 

"Segars!"  commented  the  roller.  "I 
smoke  a  pipe,  but  he  with  five  children  and  his 
wife  not  rugged,  he  must  have  his  segar. 
Hm!  "  But  this  was  in  silence,  and  the  heater 


198  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

continued,  "  Why,  'twas  like  this:  The  old 
man  come  round  to  the  twelve-inch  with 
Jamieson  and  they  were  talking  and  I  heard 
him  say,  '  Yes,  I  got  the  cash  together,  fur  ' — 
I  don't  mind  the  name — '  is  after  the  place, 
too;  but  spot  cash  will  be  the  temptation  no 
body  can  resist  these  days.  I  can  tell  you  it 
was  rather  a  job  getting  it  myself,  and  I  guess 
I  sacrificed  some  things ;  but  I  tell  you  ' — and 
when  he  got  there  the  old  man  spoke  kinder 
queer,  dretful  earnest  I  call  it,  and,  says  he, 
'  Jamieson,  my  mind's  ben  sot  on  gittin'  that 
house  ever  sence  I  was  a  little  shaver,  worrying 
'cause  my  mother  was  setting  up  nights  to  knit 
me  mittens.  First,  I  was  going  to  buy  it  for 
my  mother,  then  for  my  wife,  and  now,  I  guess 
it'll  end  in  being  for  my  daughter.  That 
house  used  to  be  my  grandfather's,  and  I  guess 
there  ain't  a  living  being  knows  what  I  feel 
about  gitting  it  back  agin;  but  when  I  could 
pay  it,  I  hadn't  the  money,  and  when  I  got  the 
money  the  folks  that  had  the  house  wouldn't 
sell  it ;  but  my  chance  is  come,'  says  he.  Then 
Jamieson,  he  mumbled  something — he's 
kinder  bloodless  feller,  Jamieson,  you  know — 
and  they  went  away.  But  I  know  he's  kep'  at 
it.  That's  why  we  can't  run  the  shops." 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  199 

"  If  they  snet  down  the  shops/'  said  Swift, 
dryly,  disdaining  to  show  any  impression  made 
on  him  by  the  other's  narrative,  "  if  they  shet 
down  the  shops  it  will  be  because  they  can't 
run  them  on  a  profit.  Nobody's  going  to  run 
shops  at  a  loss.  You  wouldn't  in  the  old  man's 
place." 

"  I  wouldn't  make  my  profit  out  of  flesh 
and  blood,  I  know  that  much,"  said  the  heater, 
doggedly,  "  but  I  know  the  Rivers  tribe,  root 
and  branch.  They're  hard,  driving  men,  I 
come  from  Jabez  Rivers's  town,  and  my  fa 
ther's  seen  him  when  he  needed  shoes  on  his 
feet,  too.  He  needn't  talk  so  big.  His  father 
was  none  too  fine  a  man — got  drunk  and  squan 
dered  his  money  and  his  ma  took  in  sewing. 
He'd  ought  to  know  how  it  feels  to  have  your 
stomach  pinched;  he's  had  many  a  hungry 
day,  I  guess,  himself.  But  his  grandfather, 
the  old  judge,  he  was  a  cruel  old  tyrant;  and 
the  old  man's  a  chip  of  the  same  block;  and 
he  forgets  how  he  was  poor  himself,  and  takes 
it  out  of  the  poor  man.  You'd  think  he'd 
sorter  want  to  help  a  man  come  from  his  own 
town " 

"  He  did  give  you  a  job,"  said  Swift. 

"  A  job!    Ain't  I  give  him  good  work?  " 


200  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  Well,  you're  all  right  when  you're  steady; 
but  last  week  when  the  old  man  come  round  I 
looked  to  see  you  git  a  walking  ticket " 

"  I  was  doing  my  work  if  I  was  a  bit  in 
liquor!  " 

"  A  bit  is  it?  a  good  bit.  I  seen  him  squint 
ing  his  eyes  at  you,  and  I  could  not  make  out 
why  he  turned  the  other  way  and  never  took 
no  notice.  I  can,  now.  It's  lucky  for  you  you 
come  from  the  same  town." 

The  townsman  sneered,  but  made  no  reply, 
while  Swift  drank  the  last  swallows  of  his  cof 
fee,  and  said  that  his  wife  certainly  did  make 
good  coffee. 

"  I  don't  expect  my  wife'll  have  a  chance 
next  week  to  make  any  coffee,  good  or  bad," 
was  the  heater's  dismal  comment;  "  but  you 
bet  the  Riverses  won't  stint  in  their  coffee!  I 
swear  I  don't  think  it  fair  dealing — one  man's 
to  git  all  the  good  things  of  living  and  another, 
jest's  good,  to  go  sweating  out  his  days  and 
glad  for  a  drop  of  whiskey  to  forget  his  mis- 
ery!" 

"  If  it  comes  to  that,  where's  the  fairness  of 
the  Lord's  making  one  man  smart  and  another 
a  poor,  shiftless  fool,  don't  know  enough  to 
keep  a  job  when  he  gits  it? " 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  201 

"  There  ain't  so  much  difference  in  men's 
intellecks,  if  you  come  to  that !  It  is  the  way 
they're  treated.  It's  this  present  iniquitous  in 
dustrial  servitude  which  pulls  the  laboring 
man  down  and  keeps  him  down !  " 

"  There  ain't  sech  an  awful  difference  in 
rich  folks'  happiness  and  poor  folks',"  began 
Swift,  but  the  heater  cut  in  excitedly,  "  There 
is  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  Look  at  me, 
lost  a  child  with  diphtheria,  and  drinking  ever 
since,  'cause  I  can't  bear  the  sorrer,  and  look  at 
him- 

"  Yes,  look  at  him!  His  son  Tom,  oldest 
son,  died  four  years  ago,  this  last  winter " 

"  And  the  best  thing  he  ever  did  do,"  in 
terrupted  the  heater,  with  a  sneer,  "  call  that 
a  trial?  " 

"  Don't  you  call  it  the  wust  kind  of  trial 
that  your  son's  death  should  be  the  best  thing 
could  happen  to  him  and  to  you?  Well,  I  do. 
And  then  his  wife's  been  dead  a  good  while; 
and  he  lost  Jabez  last  summer,  a  little  more'n 
a  year  ago.  Jabez — "  the  roller  hesitated 
for  a  second,  adding,  in  a  careful  voice,  a  little 
dry  and  higher,  "  Jabez,  he  was  learning  the 
business,  he  worked  with  me,  my  finisher.  He 
was  a  mighty  nice  boy.  That's  what  I  called 


202  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

him — Jabez.  And  he  called  me  Sam.  I've  " 
— his  voice  caught  on  something  in  his  throat 
and  staggered  a  little — "  I've  swore  at  him 
many  a  time!  We  were  good  friends,  we 
were;  and  he  knew  how  to  take  things,  and 
we'd  have  our  dinners  together.  My  wife  al 
ways  sends  me  in  hot  dinners,  and  Jabez  he 
liked  them  lots  better  than  the  girly  things 
they'd  be  putting  into  his  pail.  Jabez  had 
more  pluck  than  a  game  rooster.  I  never  saw 
a  man  stand  up  to  it,  after  he'd  been  burned, 
better'n  him!  And  smart — he  was  the  smart 
est  boy  ever  in  these  works  or  anywhere  else, 
and  just  as  pleasant-tempered  and  high-prin 
cipled,  and  the  old  man  set  his  eyes  by  him. 
They'd  ride  home  every  evening,  in  the  bug 
gy,  Jabez  slouching  his  back  over,  for  all  the 
world  like  the  old  man.  He  didn't  look  much 
like  him,  though.  I  guess  he  was  the  hand 
somest  feller  ever  seen  in  this  town ;  and  when 
he  wasn't  working  you'd  ought  to  seen  his 
clothes.  I  went  to  the  theatre  with  him,  once. 
He  was  better  dressed  than  the  man  on  the 
stage  that  was  playing  he  was  an  earl,  or  some 
sech  foolishness.  The  kid  is  nice  looking;  but 
he  ain't  in  it  with  Jabez.  Don't  you  call  it  ter 
rible  to  lose  a  son  like  that?  " 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  203 

The  heater  admitted  that  it  was  hard,  but  a 
good  deal  depended  on  how  much  a  man 
felt — the  Riverses  were  always  hard  as 
nuts. 

"  Maybe  the  old  man  is  and  maybe  he 
ain't,"  said  Swift.  "  I  know  one  thing,  he'll 
never  cease  mourning  for  Jabez,  till  his  own 
time  comes.  He's  showed  me — I  went  up  to 
his  house  once,  he  asked  me,  'bout  some  busi 
ness — he  showed  me  Jabez's  certificate  that  he 
got  to  college,  all  writ  in  Latin;  and  he  told 
me  some  about  the  boy,  what  a  good  boy  he 
was.  <  You  needn't  tell  me  nothing  'bout 
that/  says  I,  *  ain't  he  worked  with  me ! '  I 
guess  I  sorter  broke  down  then,  I  was  feeling 
awful  bad  myself.  The  old  man  and  me  al 
ways  seemed  to  understand  each  other  after 
that,  somehow.  He'd  come  here  and  stand 
'round  where  Jabez  used  to  work,  never  say 
ing  a  word.  I'd  know  he  was  thinking  how  Ja 
bez  used  to  look,  laughing  and  hustling  about ; 
and  I'd  want  so  to  say  a  word  and  know  I 
couldn't,  and  feel  so — so  damn  I'd  have  to  go 
off  and  swear  about  it  to  Knute  and  Johnny, 
who  knew  Jabez,  too." 

The  heater  thought  maybe  the  old  man  felt 
bad;  he'd  "never  seen  any  sign  of  feeling 


204=  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

about  any  of  the  Ei verses;  maybe  Sam  knew 

the  old  man  better " 

"  Lots  better/7  returned  Sam,  calmly;  "I 
ought  to,  seeing  I've  worked  with  him  going 
on  nine  years.  The  old  man  has  got  lots  of 
good  things  'bout  him.  He  always  keeps  his 
word;  and  he  fights  fair."  Sam  laughed. 
"  That  makes  me  think  of  the  time  we  struck 
on  him,  when  I  was  first  working  with  him.  I 
was  one  of  a  deputation  foolish  enough  to  try  to 
scare  the  old  man ;  and  by  G —  he  put  us  out 
of  the  window  while  we  were  plunging  'round 
with  our  pops.  I  had  to  laugh,  he  did  it  so 
slick.  '  I'll  report  you  to  the  lodge,'  says  he; 
1  you're  clean  against  your  own  rules  and  regu 
lations;  '  and  I  told  the  boys  we  were.  So  we 
were,  too;  the  old  man  was  sound.  We  had  a 
talk,  next  day,  and  fixed  things  up  pretty  much 
his  way.  I  didn't  suppose  he'd  noticed  me; 
but,  about  a  week  after,  there  happened  to  be 
a  job  at  night  rolling  and  he  gave  it  to  me,  and 
in  a  month  he  gave  me  the  mill.  { I  notice  you 
have  a  little  horse  sense,  Swift,'  says  he ;  '  keep 
it ! '  Well,  I've  tried  to.  I've  seen  considera 
ble,  off  and  on,  of  the  old  man,  and  I  can  tell 
you,  now,  he's  all  right;  if  there's  a  show  to 
keep  the  shops  running,  they'll  run!  " 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  205 

"  God  knows  I  hope  so,"  said  the  heater, 
with  a  sigh;  "  it's  terrible  times  to  lose  a  job. 
All  the  same,  he'll  shet  down  ruther'n  lose 
money,  you  say— 

"  What's  that?  "  another  man  asked,  catch 
ing  the  sentence  as  he  passed;  "  you  ain't 
heard  the  shops  was  to  shet  down?  " 

"  He  ain't  heard  nothing,  really,"  Sam 
struck  in  curtly;  "he's  chinning  to  amuse 
himself  by  scaring  us." 

"  My  wife's  sick,  and  we've  got  a  new  baby, 
and  the  doctor  prescribes  terrible  expensive 
things,"  said  the  man,  "  and  we're  kinder  be 
hind,  anyhow.  I  don't  know  what  we  will  do 
if  the  shops  shet  down." 

A  third  man  came  up,  wearing  an  anxious 
face,  and  a  fourth,  a  fifth;  Sam  was  glad  to 
hear  the  whistle. 

For  half  an  hour  the  officers  of  the  Edge- 
water  Steel  Works  had  been  talking.  Jamie- 
son  had  explained  the  business  situation.  Ran 
dall  had  questioned  and  added  dismal  facts 
concerning  orders.  But  the  old  man  had  said 
little.  Lolling  ungracefully  in  his  chair,  he 
had  listened  and  attended  to  his  nails  with  a 
pen-knife,  while  Randall  shuddered.  The  pres 
ident  stood  little  on  niceties  of  manner,  where 


206  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

he  felt  himself  at  home ;  and  much  more  than 
by  his  own  fireside  (which  his  daughter  and 
only  living  child  ruled),  did  he  feel  himself  at 
home  in  his  office.  Now  and  then,  he  would 
throw  a  cross-grained  sentence  at  Randall;  but, 
really,  he  was  snubbing  the  secretary  by  sheer 
force  of  habit ;  he  hardly  remembered  his  own 
words.  What  his  frowning  gray  eyes  saw  was 
not  the  handsome  oaken  woodwork  or  the 
gay  carpet  of  the  office,  but  a  stately,  prim, 
white  mansion,  with  gambrel  roof  and 
porches,  and  tall  white  Corinthian  columns 
shining  through  the  elms.  He  sniffed  the 
pungent  fragrance  of  honeysuckle;  he  could 
feel  the  cool  tingle  of  the  moist,  plastic  earth 
against  a  boy's  bare  feet.  Suddenly,  his  heart 
stirred  with  the  memory  of  his  mother's  voice. 
When  he  was  only  twelve,  his  mother  had 
shown  him  the  house,  one  day  (but  he  always 
had  known  it),  and  told  him  how  the  great 
house  had  been  his  grandfather's,  when  his 
father  was  a  boy.  "  It  will  be  ours  again, 
sometime,"  he  cried,  "  you'll  see,  Til  get  it 
for  you!  " 

And,  even  while  they  talked,  his  father  had 
drifted  down  the  street,  a  little  crowd  of  jeer 
ing  boys  at  his  heels;  and  Jabez  had  flown  at 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  207 

them  like  a  wild  cat.  He  taunted  them  as  he 
struck,  "  You're  nothing  but  common  boys, 
my  grandfather  was  a  judge;  he  sent  your 
grandfathers  to  jail!  We  used  to  own  that 
house!  I  can  lick  any  one  of  you!  "  Where 
upon,  naturally,  the  boys  thumped  him,  and 
he  was  rescued  by  his  mother,  bruised  and 
bloodied  and  (far  dolefuller  mischance)  mud 
died  and  torn.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever 
mend  your  pants,"  sighed  the  poor  woman. 
It  didn't  console  her  that  he  should  repeat, 
anew,  that  he  would  buy  the  Judge's  house 
for  her.  When  he  went  to  bed,  that  night,  he 
cried.  Then,  he  resolved  to  buy  the  house. 
He  had  two  things  he  wanted  to  do,  wanted  as 
bad  as  a  man  could  want  things,  he  guessed ;  to 
buy  that  house  and  to  see  Jabez  an  officer  of 
the  Edgewater.  The  desolate  father  looked  at 
Randall  across  the  table.  "  There's  where  he'd 
have  sat,"  he  thought;  "  he  knew  more  in  a 
day  than  that  young  blowhard  in  a  year.  Yet 
the  boy's  got  stuff  in  him,  too.  Don't  you  be 
a  dog  in  the  manger,  Jabez  Rivers!  The  old 
Judge  would  be  ashamed  of  you.  How  he'd 
have  taken  to  Jabez — "  He  shifted  his  po 
sition  abruptly;  his  face  with  its  clean-shaven 
heavy  jaws  and  beetling  eyebrows  looked  al- 


208  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

most  savage  to  Randall  at  that  instant.  But 
Randall  was  too  desperately  in  earnest,  in  the 
plea  that  he  was  making,  to  fear  the  face  of 
man.  His  words  flowed  like  lava.  "  It  is  an 
atrocious  bargain !  we  get  wealth  and  soft  liv 
ing  and  adulation  and  praise  in  the  newspapers 
if  we  are  half  way  decent,  and  they  get — the 
right  to  work!  Is  that  a  fair  bargain?  But 
they  don't  get  even  that;  when  we're  making 
money,  if  they  kick  we  are  ready  to  call  them 
all  sorts  of  names,  but  when  the  pinch  comes, 
we  cast  them  aside,  turn  them  off,  won't  even 
give  them  the  poor  right  to  work!  I  call 
the  civilization  that,  when  the  land  is  groan 
ing  with  plenty,  refuses  the  man  who  only 
asks  for  work,  I  call  it  a  failure  and  a  dis 
grace!  " 

"  Huh!  "  said  Rivers.  The  sound  partook 
of  the  nature  both  of  a  snort  and  a  grunt. 

"  We  pay  the  highest  market  wages,  you 
say;  but  I  say  we  owe  them  something  more 
than  the  bare  money  we  pay  them.  They  are 
human  beings,  not  machines,  and  we  owe  it  to 
them  to  treat  them  like  human  beings,  and  not 
take  our  profits  out  of  their  skins." 

'*  We  are  more  likely,  if  we  keep  on,  to  be 
paying  them  wages  out  of  ours,"  said  Jamie- 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  209 

son,  "  the  question  isn't  whether  the  present 
industrial  system  is  wrong — though  I  observe 
that  Elvers  and  I  hadn't  a  penny  or  a  right 
more  than  any  workingman  has,  and  we  have 
managed  under  the  present  iniquity,  to  get 
along  in  the  world,  but  that  isn't  the  question; 
it  is  simply  whether  we  can  afford  to  run  the 
Edgewater  at  a  loss  for  three  months." 

"  Couldn't  we  try?  And  "—he  flushed  up 
to  his  eyes. but  went  on  sturdily — "  I  have  a 
few  thousands,  and  perhaps  my  mother  and 
sister " 

"  Huh!  "  said  Rivers,  "  don't  risk  women's 
money!  " 

"  We  haven't  the  right  to  risk  the  stock 
holders'  money,"  said  Jamieson,  "  especially 
when  the  chances  are  we  shall  lose  it.  Now,  I 
don't  enjoy  shutting  down  the  shops  any  more 
than  you  do;  but  I'm  in  the  steel  business  to 
make  money;  when  we  stand  to  lose  money  I 
think  we  better  quit." 

"  But — my  own  money " 

"  It's  only  a  few  thousands,  and  it  isn't  a 
few  thousands  will  run  this  concern  between 
now  and  November — the  banks  shut  tight  as 
an  oyster,  and  gilt  edge  paper  no  use  on 
earth!" 

14 


210  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

"  That's  right,''  said  Rivers.  He  also  added, 
"Huh!" 

"  Then,  you  will  shut  down?  "  said  Ran 
dall,  turning  his  pale,  fair  face,  and  flashing, 
excited  blue  eyes  on  the  president.  In  spite  of 
his  Harvard  training  he  was  trembling. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause;  even  Jamie- 
son  made  a  grimace. 

"  I  guess  we  better  keep  on,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  How?  "  said  Jamieson. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  risk  the 
money  of  the  concern;  nor  to  pay  fancy  in 
terest  to  borrow.  Besides,  as  you  say,  the 
banks  are  all  sitting  down  on  their  funds.  But 
I  have  some  money  of  my  own,  forty  or  fifty 
thousand.  I'll  let  you  have  that,  taking  the 
risks  and  the  profits — if  there  are  any,  myself. 
And  we'll  keep  running  until  election,  any 
how.  How's  that?" 

Randall  caught  his  breath,  his  hand  which 
was  impulsively  outstretched  to  Rivers, 
dropped  as  he  met  the  old  man's  keen  and 
chilly  glance.  He  sat  silent  and  felt  dizzy. 

"  But,"  faltered  Jamieson,  "  I  understood 
you  meant — there  was  another  purpose " 

"  I've  changed  my  mind,"  the  old  man  in- 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  211 

terrupted,  sharply;  "  I'll  be  obliged  if  you'll 
leave  that  out." 

"  Why,  certainly,"  agreed  Jamieson,  ner 
vously.  He  hesitated;  he  confessed  to  Ran 
dall,  later,  that  he  was  of  a  mind  to  shake 
hands  with  the  old  man  himself;  but  did  not 
judge  his  aspect  propitious,  therefore  he  com 
promised  with  his  feelings  by  drawing  a  cigar 
from  his  case  and  offering  it,  remarking: 
"  Yes,  Mr.  Rivers,  that  will  be  a  very  nice  way 
out,  and  we  are  very  much  obliged;  and  I'm 
sure  the  men  will  be  relieved.  Well,  I  am  re 
lieved  myself;  it's  infernally  unpleasant  shut 
ting  down.  And  then,  there  are  the  furnaces. 
Then,  it's  decided.  How  about  the  other  mat 
ters?  " 

The  talk  went  its  way  into  the  other  mat 
ters.  Rivers  was  quite  out  of  his  reverie, 
brusque,  cynical,  and  sensible  as  usual.  He 
snarled  over  the  cigars  in  his  invariable  fash 
ion  with  Randall  and  Jamieson.  "  You  boys 
never  will  learn  to  pick  out  a  decent  cigar,"  he 
growled,  flinging  away  half  of  Jamieson's  lat 
est  sacrifice,  "  and  I  suppose  if  those  Cuban 
niggers  don't  get  put  down,  or  can't  put  the 
Spaniards  down,  that  there  won't  be  any  de 
cent  cigars  left  for  anyone  to  smoke.  It's 


212  TEE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

sickening.  Well,  I'm  going,  now;  and  if  I 
find  that  young  monkey  as  close  to  the  door  as 
he  was  yesterday,  Fm  going  to  kick  him !  " 

Randall  and  Jamieson  looked  at  each  other. 
"  I  suppose  he  has  some  money-making  scheme 
in  this,"  Randall  ventured. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Jamieson;  "  I  know 
he's  pulled  us  out  of  a  hole." 

Rivers  found  the  office-boy  near  the  door, 
but  he  did  not  kick  him;  he  smiled  sombrely 
at  the  brightness  on  the  lad's  face.  "  Got 
a  mother  and  a  lame  sister,  and  looks  like 
life  and  death  to  him,  our  keeping  open,  I 
expect,"  thought  the  old  man.  "  No,  there's 
too  many  of  'em;  I  couldn't  do  it.  But — oh 
Lord!  what'll  Sissy  say  when  she  finds  she 
ain't  to  have  the  house?  Business  losses  it'll 
have  to  go  to.  Glad  I  didn't  tell  her  more'n 
a  hint;  she  can't  have  her  hopes  up  much. 
And,  Lord!  what  will  I  have  to  think  about, 
now,  when  I'm  alone,  riding  over  the  bridge, 
now  I  haven't  got  Jabez  ?  "  He  shut  his  mouth 
more  tightly,  as  he  gave  Swift  a  scowl  with  his 
nod.  Swift's  heart  ran  down  like  a  clock ;  for 
a  second  seemed  to  stop  ticking. 

"  Guess  that  means  we  are  going  to  shut 
down,"  he  muttered;  "old  man  feels  awful 


OONSOIENOE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  213 

bad.  Don't  know  why  I  hoped  he'd  stop  it; 
but  I  guess  I  did,  or  I  wouldn't  be  feeling  so 
disappointed.  "Well,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be 
thankful  I  can  afford  to  take  a  little  vacation, 
myself.  But  there's  all  the  other  boys !  " 

His  wrinkled  brow  unconsciously  imitated 
Rivers,  when  he  strode  to  the  furnace,  almost 
running  down  the  office-boy,  such  was  his  ab 
straction. 

"  What  the  h do  you  want,  splay- 
feet?"  he  cried,  in  the  natural  irritation  of 
the  moment. 

"  Order  from  the  old  man,"  answered  the 
lad,  beaming  on  him,  unabashed.  He  gave  the 
order,  adding,  without  the  pause  of  a  comma, 
"  Say,  the  shops  ain't  going  to  shut  down !  " 

"  What!  "  Swift  shouted. 

"Old  man  says  so.  Going  to  lend  us  his 
own  money.  He's  got  a  lot  in  the  bank.  Don't 
give  me  away.  I  heard  'em  talking.  Guess 
the  old  man  sees  big  money  in  it,  somewhere." 
Swift,  grinding  his  teeth,  made  a  dive  at  the 
rolls  with  his  tongs.  "  You're  knowing  a  lot, 
Billy,"  said  he,  in  a  caustic  tone;  "  you  are  a 
very  smart  boy,  and  you're  mother's  very 
proud  of  you,  but  if  I  was  you  I'd  skip  my 
opinions  on  the  old  man.  Seeing  he's  running 


214  THE  HEART  OF  TOIL 

the  shops  at  his  own  expense;  and  we've  all 
got  to  thank  him  we're  not  out  of  a  job.  And 
I  happen  to  know  that  he's  given  up  plans  he 
thought  a  deal  on,  to  do  it.  That's  all,  Billy. 
On  your  way  back,  you  might  skip  over  to  the 
twelve-inch  and  tell  Forbes." 

Billy  must  have  obeyed,  for  the  turn  was  no 
sooner  finished  than  the  heater  appeared  at 
Swift's  ear. 

"  Ain't  it  good  news!  "  he  cried;  "  but  I 
wish  I  knew  what  made  the  old  man  change 
his  mind.  It  ain't  like  the  Kiverses.  Giving 
up  what  they  are  set  on  is  wuss  than  drawing 
teeth  to  all  the  breed.  I  expect  he's  got  some 
deep  scheme,  and  he'll  jest  mint  money!  " 

Swift  had  no  time  for  answrer  before  he  was 
gone;  and  his  sudden  retreat  was  explained 
when  Swift  saw  the  old  man  himself,  standing 
by  the  rolls,  where  Jabez  was  wont  to  stand, 
eyeing  the  mill.  His  full,  florid  face  had  not 
grown  paler,  but  it  wore  a  shrunken,  haggard 
look,  peculiar  to  such  faces  when  men  suffer. 
Swift  felt  his  throat  contract  with  ugly  pain. 
Never  had  he  longed  to  speak,  to  say  some 
thing,  to  let  the  old  man  know,  as  he  longed 
then.  He  swallowed  once  or  twice,  a  mist  got 
into  his  eyes,  he  grinned  foolishly.  "  We — 


CONSCIENCE  OF  A  BUSINESS  MAN  215 

turned  out  fifty  thousand  yesterday,  sir,"  said 
he. 

A  flicker  kindled  in  the  old  man's  dull  eyes; 
they  changed,  and  rested  on  the  roller. 

"  The  Edgewater  is  a  dandy  mill,"  said 
Swift;  "  ain't  a  better  run  one,  anywhere." 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  the  old  man.  Half  turn 
ing,  he  added,  gruffly,  over  his  shoulder: 
"  And  you're  a  damn  good  fellow,  Swift;  and 
you  always  were!  " 

Then  he  lumbered  off  slowly,  past  the  silent 
engines,  his  head  sagging  a  little,  as  if  he  were 
in  thought. 

Swift  watched  him.  "  Lord,  I  hope  he's  got 
somebody  home  ain't  so  damfool  clumsy  as 
me,  and  can  comfort  him  a  bit  for  things. 
Like's  not  he'll  never  be  able  to  buy  that 
house,  now;  and,  next  to  Jabez,  his  heart  was 
jest  set  on  it.  And  he's  lost  'em  both.  And 
folks  think  he's  doing  this  to  make  money! 
Well,  it's  a  lonesome  world!  " 


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BY 

E.  W.  HORNUNG 


*'  Mr.  Hornung  has  certainly  earned  the  rigkZ  IP 
be  called  the  Bret  Harte  of  Australia." 

— Boston  Herald. 

**  The  machinery  of  Mr.  Hornung  s  fiction^  once 
in  motion^  is  productive  of  capital  and  vivid  story 
telling — stories  that  hold  the  interest  steadily  and 
never  halt  for  lack  of  quickening  incident  and 
lively  adventure" — Literature. 


The  Amateur  Cracksman         .         .         .  £1.25 

Some  Persons  Unknown          .         .         .  1.25 

Young  Blood 1.25 

My  Lord  Duke 1.25 

The  Rogue's  March.     A  Romance    .         .  1.50 
A  Bride  from  the  Bush.     [Ivory  Series.]  .75 
Irralie's    Bushranger.      A   Story  of  Aus 
tralian  Adventure.     [Ivory  Series]          .  .75 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers  ;  published  by 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

J5J-J57  FIFTH  AVENUE  NEW  YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


&  Jul51AL 
V\^      < 

REC'D  LD 

!EP24'64-3PM 

AUG  1  9  1951 

•27M5UU        ISEP23196794 

24)an'56GB 


SEP  18 '67 -8  A 

LOAN  DEPT. 


Ctt,     JAM2A7? 

JAN  0| 

^ 


LD  21-95m-ll,'50(2877sl6)476 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


519125 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRAR 


. 


